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The Backyard

by B.R.Nagpal
(Delhi, India)


Strolling
in the backyard
of my meditation room
I began quivering
in the lap of midnight
before the break of dawn
I was caught unawares
by a rare effulgence
enveloping the withered leaves of a flowerpot

What was it? What was it?
I was held speechless
began running like a child
to gather the treasure
between the ambiguities of night
and the freshness of daylight.

The silvery light
stayed for a few moments
Layer after layer, chunk after chunk
of my formation
was being demolished, reformulated.
There, the presence fled
The magic moment clicked
Grace, benediction
shifted from flowers, leaves, trees
to the sliding chair
The entire surroundings participated in divine creativity.

Everywhere, all elements
revealed the same imprint
The reverberations lasted
I was ceasing
to be an object, shade, affliction.
***

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