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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