Dream, Sikkim.

Your dream. A vision
of noiseless rivers foaming
in the distance, while
a monastery touched by calls
of ravens, lights a lantern
the moon sets

over the mountain’s shoulder. Simmering
tea pots, on them the sage’s fable
inked like a lucid memory

recited by shut eyes. The floor
cold from the season, pressed
by the music of toes. The sun rises,
its first arrows
piercing the village with joy.

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One thought on “Dream, Sikkim.

  1. The class and economy with which words have been used here in this poem, are only suggestive of your immense growth each day as a poet, and a proof that writing like this can only come with so much time spent with the craft. I absolutely love this poem. So inspiring! Thank you.

    Like

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