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Once again spiraling down
the bottomless pits of
all-consuming thoughts.
Is it the high tides in the sea
or simply a patch of dark clouds?
May be it’s the Northern winds
curled up by silent thoughts.
May be the dystopic reality or
my aging myopia from whose
prism , I can faintly view the
blurring horizon at whose
mid-point, saffron daylight
ceases into the kohl
darkness of night.