6th January '11

A shadow that haunts me
sometimes just bursts into fragments of light.
If I'm not too careful, I might just be up in flames.

It lingers when I'm having a happy dream
with visions, with doubts that I could be happier still.
It's almost forbidden,
yet it finds its place exactly where it's to be not.

It's just a reflection, the real's far far away.
Still? So much power? So much attraction?
And that too in an abstract?
A smoke like thing which appears from nowhere
and then also dissolves into nothingness?

It's an incomplete thing.
It could be anything.
It's a thing ahead of itself
which just couldn't finish.
It's a shadow of an unfinished thing
which I hope to capture in poetry, in the least.

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