While the bird sits in
hazards beside the pond water,
I forget to take it as a
real bird, and it seems to me
it is a fake or toy bird.
And I look at it if it can bring
my loved one amidst so
many well conversed minds around
the hilarious sediments,
hard to find real one.
I cannot be lucky one to
have one such real loving
and colorful bird to
appear in my defense to save me being falling
from lost love that I am
pertaining so many years to live in,
yet to feel it in my body
and mind. It is like ominous jolt in my life.
And I am living so many
years in fruitless sincerity of my loved one
who is now a pilgrimage to
become sediment of nothingness,
can easily discard me as abandoned
one.
Even I cannot detect my
faults in light of my long-term loved eyes.
Still pond-water gathers weeds;
its vicinity gathers garbage.
This unknown bird sitting
coolly there surely has some visions
for next flying with love
that may not suit me.
Oh lo and behold, exigencies
sometimes required in dream.
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