By Manoj Vaz Ramchandran
Intrepid by nature, the kite was exhilarated,
The gusty winds, the gutsy irreverence set upon.
The pain in his heart purposefully berated,
Soar as he may, it was a battle not to be won.
The sky clouded grey but his heart blue,
The grounds longing, trees bracing for a fight,
The strings that held his heart had no clue,
It now dangled from a malignant kite.
What was unshackled had turned servient,
As he released the kite in an ascending soar.
The reel of serendipity hung on the deviant,
The rain set to strangle evert breath of air.
His heart, flimsy, frail, forever in pain,
A slave to the strings forever attached,
Tangled, knotted, bleeding in the rain,
Hungry to breathe, thirsty to live detached.
As the sun broke the dark clouds’ reign,
He looked all over; his kite couldn’t be found.
‘Cos caught by the winds, torn by the rain,
His mangled heart had spiraled to the ground.
By Manoj Vaz Ramchandran
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