The tabooed essence of primordial birth
unfolds in the labyrinth of the unknown,
as if a symphony of blood cells dancing
in the sacred space of human fabrication.
Where time bends and breathes only
in the rhythm of divine existence,
a fragile vessel of flesh and bone moves
the soul bound by the thin thread of mortality
On the sharp axis of the four walls,
the earth rotates in the waves of pain,
the alternating current of moisture and drought,
causing the bud to blossom and eventually drop.
With listening the calm symphony of agony,
she seeks solace in the strength of his presence,
because the gestation of time's elusive grasp,
conceals the enigma of life's first cry.
Her bony spiral patterns now facing
the vast expanse of the universe,
now she will take rest alongside all
the mushrooms that have gathered at her door.
Each heartbeat a cadence of grace,
a sonnet whispered by the universe's mouth,
but when I look at your open palms
I don’t find a single line like her hands have.
Sandeep Kumar Mishra, Rajasthan, India
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