Author: Siddharth Dhaka
The threads bound, stretching me to my farthest reach
Sometimes making me stand in the deluded slush,
Sometimes devolving all the worldly powers
And sometimes making me tarry in the colossal ocean.
But I have to halt or move along with them,
So they may not be strained enough to break
For these threads are tender and that very worm a coffer.
And when they, and thus we get entangled, we break them and are left at the antipodes
They value our courtesy, so strong yet so weak…
