Malana Cream

Crimson eyes under the bright blue skies
I kept on walking and walking;
it wasn't meaningless and painful anymore,
circles drawn in a sequence so pure.

I jumped and bent to ask myself
why is happiness is so rare?
How is that anthill made on a chasm?
And, why is mockery easier than sarcasm?

The bird was flying so high from earth,
I was on a different level altogether!
Peckish and greedy was I who ate the food,
staring at the anthill to which I was glued.

Fire and music created a spark in air,
with such conscience how could I dare,
broken pipes and a fragrance of singularity,
the revolution of a brave mentality.

I go there every once in a while now,
to break the pendulum of necessity,
I'll be candid to confess my doubt,
there are times I don't want to come out.

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