is our muse a fetter
addicted to a scent
we once granted consent
enmeshed us in confines of time
deadening sentience to our inner chime
self-blocking the influx of God’s grace
owing to mundane goals we chase
so the verses our mind shapes
though colourful rainbow drapes
if it has now become a habit routine
perhaps it is indulgence we need to wean
Copyright © Unseeking Seeker | Year Posted 2024
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