Myself. A cell.
Flowing ad infinitum.
Every day, I board.
Pumped from the heart
...
The stage was set
The birthday boy was happy,
All the arrangements were met
And he in kurtas was looking snappy.
...
Wearing a jovial smirk
Wayward
Latent, when not to be
Supercilious
...
Like A Cell
Myself. A cell.
Flowing ad infinitum.
Every day, I board.
Pumped from the heart
In the arteries of streets.
Red. Intense. Frenzied.
White. Defending. Fighting.
There is so much life.
Yet the colours run dry.
It indeed is so wry.
I budge
With millions of them
And moving, fighting
Walking, dancing
Climbing, falling
I come back to the heart
Carpe diem.
Purified.
And then once again
In the eternal journey…