The Musk

He pulled the laminated door towards him,

The bright room opened up with a warm smile

Alarmed by an unexpected ingress

A flock of sheep stared at him,

Realizing he was the same old silly deer,

The flock drooled it's eyes away with apathy followed by a group sneer.

He, bothered less, walked up to the machine,

The machine that was known to brew happiness,

Brewed him a whole mug of dark fantasy,

He peeped into their mugs,

Some relishing favouritism,

While others treating the favourites to their freshly fermented fallacy.

Sipping up his hot fantasy,

The deer gazed out through the window,

Like any other usual day,

He could hear the wind calling his name,

He could smell the aroma luring him towards her.

Trying not to again get distracted by her thoughts,

He looked away with utter dismay.

Scrolling through co workers' pretentious smiles,

And, hoping for the clock to stop superintending him,

He was reminded of how the place had long disowned him

And that, a deer belonged more to "that outside" than "this inside".

The daily conundrum haunted him again today,

The fear of uncertainty revoked in his mind,

But how badly did we wish for the poor deer

To know, that the widely sought musk had long beguiled the mind of her seeker.

The deer, bewildered by her smell,

Could no longer wait to meet her.

So he broke open the window pane,

Splattered the mosaic with his half finished fantasy,

Deployed his propitious parachute,

And dived out from the ever clinging world, in to the Pandora's box.

The scent of the musk held him spellbound,

And one more time, real imitated reel

When trickery outplayed realism in the silhouette of desire.

The wind now grew stronger,

Bringing the seeker closer to his destiny,

Helping the deer meet his musk.

But what happened next was of utter grief

The parachute betrayed his worshipper,

And, the deer came crashing upon the ground,

Thud, broke his dreams with a painful sound.

The deer took his last breath

Gulping in the only last sniff of musk that his dreams permitted him.

The flock bid adieu to his brave soul

Drops of musk laid scattered on the mosaic floor

The ones that the poor deer daily shirked away

Fancying it to be nothing but a dark fantasy.