Poetry

Origin

Decades ago a seed was sown,

In the womb of earth —

My own earth.

It took some time before it saw the light,

tasted the tasteless, smiled at a face.

A face that would not leave its mind ever —

A face that would become the face forever —

A face that invited a beaming germination —

A face that assisted creation —

Time passed as do passers-by,

The seed metamorphosed

From decade to decade —

To centuries and ages hence,

It turned back, just for a change;

The origin was left far behind.

 

                                                                                 ~Debdoot Mukherjee 

                                                                                Kolkata, India

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