The Flying Horse

The Flying Horse

Swapnajyoti Bordoloi

The soul is a student

made methodical only

By stick-beating

The heart and mind

To turn around at the

Right time and

Happily go back home.

Keeping pace,

The body has to age;

Thankfully,

The soil from which

It came

Takes it back...

Unlocks the door!

Love is the invisible key,

All in the visible universe...

Neither the shape changes,

Nor the colours of

The rainbow;

We only stand

At different places

Every time!

Where it matters most,

Silence is the best religion...?

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