So we are taking off our masks, are we, and keeping our mouths shut? as if we’d been pierced by a glance!
The song of an old cow is not more full of judgement than the vapors which escape one’s soul when one is sick;
so I pull down the shadows around me like a puff
and crinkle my eyes as if at the most exquisite moment of a very long opera, and then we are off!
without reproach and without hope that our delicate feet will touch the earth again, let along “very soon”.
It is the law of my own voice I shall investigate.
I start like ice, my finger to my ear, my ear
to my heart, that proud cur at the garbage can in the rain.
Written By : Shubham Das
Instagram Handle : @_im.shubh