Odyssey Poem by POET SHUMUKH
Odyssey
Slide towards the murky fountain,
I wear the scent of camphor every day.
With a conviction, I billow
To blend with petrichor one day,
like the clouds of the first rain.
The inexorable baby scent,
in a continuous state of flux.
What is provisioned isn't a gift but,
a shovel to dig.
This tracing invites deep layering,
a seamless wheel.
In this past,
I am navigating by the piercing star
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11/15/2026 9:21:13 AM # rel_20261026T125300Z_a7741e1
