Another Phenomenon

I am not a ‘Plath’,

But I do have pain-

Enough to coddle it up and still remain.

Just like a cup of let-alone, hastily-filtered chai,

Descending from the sponges of foam into the depth of crusty bitterness-

Life adjoins its beginnings of pleasure and

The later arrivals of its withered clusters of dead-ends,

Smudging a timbre with

A little of truth and a lot of decadence.

A session of a worldly mind with a tinge of visceral conscience

Flaunt fantasies in unison pace and contrary meaning as I lay lost,

Bathing pints of vividness. 

Ever so it happens, I glance the greatness of the world-

Imperial power aggregated lands and its very own cosmic people stand upright,

All in a seeming conclave of equilibrium.

But, every so it happens again,

The pain beneath presents itself before-

Soothingly perennial unlike the one we all seek.

The summation of all equals another mere life-

Plus one in its senses,

Plus one in its realization.