By Sayani Mukherjee


The bonnet of eye masked crowds

The seraphimed joy of knowledge ends

Dust particles on the shore

I masked as a bird of joy 

The flowers of beaded darkness

Till the cancerous ocean fell high 

A last brimmed full cup

In xanadu they sang and ate the heaven’s cup

In wilderness comes a divine spree

For the joy of beaded pearl 

I overrun a trained footprint

Till the last supper of mahogany sprouts. 

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