ManicWorld Magazine

Stars align
unashamed of the darkness
surrounding them.
Polished,
like a toddler’s wet galoshes
or a politician’s personality.
Stars align.
The only sound they make
gets suffocated in the silence of light
and simmers out along with
the rays of a magnetic sun setting
in the imaginations of two lovers
who haven’t aged a day
except for today.
So now imagine a sad holiday,
a lullaby without softness.
When even an ant stands no better chance
in a sandbox than it does in a cat’s litter box.
There are those who take comfort in the fact
that eventually, the reset button is pressed
at the exact instance an attempt is made
to explain tomorrow to a toddler.
It’ll be difficult to make sense of it
without getting fed up with
it’s the niched-out hero who
personifies arpeggios.