Web Of Mist - Poem by Prayag Saikia
Is there a billion-year-old spider
in the sky,
after spinning the web of the cosmos,
in a reclining posture,
with four pairs of limbs apart?
If it's there,
I'm a self-offered prey
in the vase of a live planet
with a long autobiography of the human mind.
I've imbibed enough nectar
and it seems
immortality is a curse.
Pondering over the rendezvous
with the weaver insect,
I become a renegade pilgrim.
Away from the eternal bliss of heavenly shrines,
Hemlock is divine.
thus, I crave for you
with four limbs apart,
glued to the web of mist.
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