and someone stated
belated...
like a mail
coming after a long gap...
like that critical painting
with time semi liquid shape bending
falling off as if
from an edge of a table...
'haven't you seen
where you dreamt a hopeful beam
in that sky
in me too?
have not you?
have you not?
that dream sought?
found not?'
it was a query rhetorical...
like that once Christina asked
climbing uphill...
to Her small life's custodian...
perhaps...
the same query came
from the damsel
who played on a harp...
never moving to tunes sharp...
the same query...
so oft repeated in songs...
in ideas really held aloft...
by pillars of biggest Faith...
kept him muted...
his uncertain ways diluted...
'but journeys are always short...
of this short life...
and long
in longest Life...'
he thought...
and got de ja vu...
sure...
perceiving the unreal...
and yet the real...
he remembered
someone writing a book
in 1928...
talking mind...
how mind always tries
to shape...
reshape...
and assimilate
events of small life...
to make an imprint
of an experience...
de ja vu...
and
then
the
unseen...
the Seen...
the Never Seen...
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