The book I hold
Like a mold
Takes several shapes
Sometimes looks like
Another mind:
centuries old & long gone
Radiating ancient wisdom still relevant
Or of serrated quadrangle
Or perhaps a browning
Savage weapon
Empowering bold figures
Unshackling brain of trammels
Fighting inner demons
Threatening rotten schemes and dominions
And like a match
It starts a fire
Cast light on shadows
Burns a desire
And That is how
a phoenix rise
An event indeed the whole world feels
Turns into a catalyst
Flings one into worlds another end
Or into alternate realities
It even turns into world
Gives food, refuge and air
Looks out for one's sanity
Tells lessons of humanity
The book I hold
Is power
Is freedom
YOU ARE READING
The Voice Inside
PoetryWelcome to the world of surrealism. We are always accompanied by a voice that resides within. A voice questioning every move, every desire and everything that comes in its way. A voice sane and serene: illuminating us of the cosmic realities hidden...
