Old Soul

The colour crimson, the sky strokes,
beyond the plumes of smoke,
do you adore the light hue
that shies away from the dark
yet brings you the mornings anew?
Do you listen to the silence of
the benign blue, that lie defenseless,
covering the cue,
that reaches out to the soul dense,
beyond it’s quietness?
Can you fathom it’s depth,
that draws you in with no threat?
D’you dance to the moon light rhythm,
humming the harmonious hymn?
D’you gaze at the flickering stars,
that dazzle beyond the scars,
Can you discern the soul,
that listens to the silence and
traverse beyond the surface whole,
that questions the countenance and
answers with a hidden instance,
that falls for every sincere word,
and deciphers the stuttered
letters strewed afar,
that composes verses but
inept, articulating cases ?
Ask the soul, how old she has grown ,
why amidst everything new
chooses the letters torn?
Juggling with basics ,
why goes for classics and
fond of the cosmoses ?
Ask the soul a word,
Is she even of this world??

Gayatri Mohapatra

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