Myth
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Each morn
awakening's first breath
recreates the myth
today would be born
a new kind of poem
Mind in the heavens sail
seeking kind of a tale
never unearthed
travels the whole length
the spade's renewed strength
digging deeper
evermore
foraging space time
for one rhyme
that in its first breath
would reinforce the myth
on this earth
a new poem can still take birth!
When the day is out
we know it's one myth
we can't live without.
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