In his smile I see subdued thoughts and dimensions of depth
Yet the perpetual presence of haunting reality has not adulterated his soul.
He resurrects in recognition, treading along the scintillating coasts.
Yet he tries to avoid the crashing waves and seek behind the cliffs albeit still basking in sunlight.
He waves flowers and dreams, wrap it around moonbeams and strike at your heart.
Yet it comes from a distance. He would rather stay across the bridge than cross it over to you.
He is the bird that flies above the sea, peering, observing yet not daring to come close.
He is as paradoxical as a free spirit bound to a standstill.
Yet he is the elixir that heals.
He is not made for the dark.
©srijaprasita
Yet the perpetual presence of haunting reality has not adulterated his soul.
He resurrects in recognition, treading along the scintillating coasts.
Yet he tries to avoid the crashing waves and seek behind the cliffs albeit still basking in sunlight.
He waves flowers and dreams, wrap it around moonbeams and strike at your heart.
Yet it comes from a distance. He would rather stay across the bridge than cross it over to you.
He is the bird that flies above the sea, peering, observing yet not daring to come close.
He is as paradoxical as a free spirit bound to a standstill.
Yet he is the elixir that heals.
He is not made for the dark.
©srijaprasita
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