The spirits within or above who roam,
One’s walking, others floating for the home;
Awaiting to be pushed or pulled in pursuit,
With fire, mud or ice, diverging roads in woods.
In the paradise loaded with books that
runs,
Or deprive the forest with water, to
burn;
Ain’t there deep roots to grow taller than
once!
Juggling solitudes between the bad or
worse.
Around the lakes or feet on the grass,
And the ones above between gravity &
stars;
Counting days & years coming or
passed,
This time would be recycled beginning of
past?
In the clear blue sky wondering a lonely
cloud,
Witnessing the gateway of way in and
out!
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2023