ayanchakraborty250
- Jan 2, 2021
- 1 min read

Rhythm

Updated: May 12, 2022

A stack of papers

a sigh or breath

a voyage through time, sprawling darkness

Fading smiles, lost moments,

simple regrets, weakening failures, withering ties, hopeless secrets.

And still,

Familiar faces, implied language... scattered pieces, languid sketches ...an hour of montage.

"But what is this? It is not what I was looking for."

"It is that you have been, the unborn."

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