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Writer's picturethe graveyard zine

Dwam

by: Pranjal Singh


I found myself in a trance

Where everything seemed sublimed to the one who possessed vigilance

Where I contrived the guerdon for what I toiled for

It was a world imbued with beatitude,

In midst of a furore of all and sundry

Where the birds took the flight of the leeway that I desiderate for

Where the florets conceded to the zephyr,

Like an inveterate soul does to gospel truth

It was a world pervaded of acceptance,

A world vindicative towards foibles

It was a world like no other, and I found my self enthralled than ever

Exhuming for the rarity it possesses,

Taking it in as nibbles to my ravenous soul

I scrutinized the remarks that I once asseverated,

On the bark of a particular tree that I stood in front of

Re-weighing of what could have been imparted right

Or what could have been left tacit

And then there was tenebrosity like a soul left shunned

It possessed affliction, aggravation, envy, and everything that is erroneous

Until light paraded itself, accepting the darkness like a mother does her child

And then I saw the roots of a tree, burgeoned deep into the earth, like the morals that I incarcerate myself with, it was stronger than the flaunting flowers

The leaves of the tree fell apart by a robust gust of wind,

Now savoring the company of a newfangled friend

I wondered why the tree didn’t felt despondent, being lost of companions

Only to discern-it has known of long, long ago

Neither never, nor ever, can you have something last forever

I looked at what the future could be yet not pretermitting what the past was

The sky was the testimony of what I encountered in this new world, today

What a beautiful dwam it was, a beguiling reverie, just like the beauty of this life


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