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By Mukesh Choudhry

Some things unheard,

Some words unsaid.

A beauty unseen,

And those, who lived,

Living undead.


Come weary traveler, you're split at seams,

Let’s warm our souls in this bonfire of dreams.

Cast a fire, spill your flame,

Mend that tired, ragged frame.

"What do dreams cost?

Oh, so much, I found:

As I sacrificed my connect,

In lieu of the mount;

To see by thee, by thine eyes,

The sound of vision — that;

That minor ever might realize,

Yet mostly never fruit,

And life could never count."

Where do our dreams begin,

Where do our lives end?

What songs from our vision of love

Shall we sing for their pleasant nightmare then?

"To break a butterfly

Upon a wheel,

Shave the iron, slam the steel.

Such is my zeal that — I can't yield;

My Faustian deal,

The ghost unsealed,

An undone peer whom cold winds steal

From the unforgiven those, who kneel —

When their conscious dims and

Sorrows field,

Our greed will burn the heart it feeds,

Doused in wines of souls it feels."

By Mukesh Choudhry

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