Amann Aroraa (28 March 1993 / New Delhi)
What a dream is
What a dream is, to realize which, I do not give all my heart:
Like a pending file on a bureaucrat’s desk - it stinks and wears.
A dream is one, which waits not for inspiration; for it itself is one.
It is a noisily-pumping heart, self-imposing itself,
Like a volcano, waiting to erupt - vibrant and voracious;
It promises of activity in a state of melancholy.
What a dream is, existence of which, I keep on questioning:
Like the loving faces a little infant refuses to recognize; nescience.
A dream is one, which needs not any other faith; for it itself is one.
It is the inner-voice talking, the purest form of prayer;
Like a hymn, sung from a heart that knows no sin;
It promises endurance in a state of mortality.
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