Sunday, 7 April 2019

Baby Universe

Perfect clouds mingle and shoot into space 
With a precision that time never granted 
Our tiny, unlived past, not aware

Of a parallel world in which clouds
Are but white puffs of happiness

With each day, we shed the dead life
Of an yesterday and yet something 
Lived on from two childhoods

Moments of loneliness molding
Whole lifetimes, it seems bereft 
Of the resurrection of death 

And yet, here and now when I died 
In your arms again, my birth 
Is enshrined in that sacred space 

Where time wraps around itself and 
Around every regret, each loss and 
Spirals into a wormhole 

of an altogether 
new baby universe
my friend, farewell.


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