He or what I believe is Him
Glances into my blank canvas
From behind the golden frame
As often moon slits the dark sky
His silver flows into a smudged world
My drops defy the pull from below
They leap with an enchanted charm
At the highest drop on the tide
The coin nearly drowns into his pocket
Then the inevitable fall shatters this spell
And the conjuring continues all night
The perpetual rise and fall of life !
Those who drift in the bright day
Are wrapped gently in glitter
For the spectrum often illuminates
From far beyond the golden margins
Rishikesh
6.7.25
20.11 hrs
2301
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