bliss station ~ poetry

bird, nirvana

took flight, just as I opened my eyes, as if it had been nesting on the eyelids & was alarmed at the collapse of its home.

but it wasn't a flight of alarm - not a single feather - before entering the factory, leaving behind a trail of the desire to know.

the wheels drenched in soot kept its original colour a secret, turning endlessly with a sliver of intended symphony, fueled by a flame & fuelling the fire - an infernal cycle.

but the bird called nirvana whistles - you chase, imitate, listen and understand, take a deep breath and blow out the fire, walk out through the far door, greening everything behind.

~Ajay
28/7/19