Historian

Our Dreams make us feel guilty every time we shy away in making them true. I may dream of getting drenched in rain; dancing in a moon-lit night or sleeping under a tree. But I put off them for ever. I am draped in clothes knit by shame. Innocence is covered on the pretext of robing nudity. I can never be as nude as I was a child.

Photo by Fiicus

Every child
Comes to the world
With clenched fists.
As buds passionately blossom
They unfold.
We may keep
Either a knife or a pen
On his stretched out palms.
He writes history
With whatever he is gifted.
-Satish Chandar.M

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