[Ever felt that truth is stranger than fiction? That the Utopia in your head is matched by that around you? That your wildest fantasies were not-so-wild after all? Strange things do happen. This 'poem' is more about the adjectives and adverbs, whereas I fear that they have been written in an overlookable fashion. Just making you look out for em.
Dedicated to Sudarshana, and the person(ality) that she is.]
Rivers of thought flowing nowhere
Swirling and curling with a will
Meandering off at ev'ry impulse
Or spiraling on down into chaos.
Being swept off whole by the tide
The mind directs it on
Fantastic twists about fantastic scenes
Do beckon for just one more tour.
And when the flow has slowed to a trickle,
And when the mind is confused and fickle,
It rewinds back a scene or two
Thence forging an alternate reality anew.
But the scene of scenes, the Northern Lights
Flow on as an enigmatic beauty
I never dreamed that my waking self
Would live and experience such a fantasy.
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