SIGNATURE

I tripped over a dream When my mind was wandering in a slumber I dreamt of myself writing a poem And I had the feeling that somebody was watching me Awaken I jotted down those lines Except the last couple of lines Though they were on the tip of my tongue Later, I was told that She saw me in a dream In which I was seen writing a poem To my surprise I was told that She still could remember the ending

Just like holding eternity In a fraction of second, Like stashing a giant tree In a tiny seed, Like making infinity With a few numbers, Like ending wars By a pinch of love and humility, Like butterfly effect, The big world is made of small things Miniscule but great…

Life is like a metrical composition It flows with occasional whirls and tumults And as that of poetry, It sometimes runs like Iamb, Sometimes Anapest and Some other times Trochee… Stressed and Unstressed As if binary Assuming different combinations