My mind is not merely an open paragraph with sentences that abide all regular syntax it runs parallel in fragments and intersect if they should or crash at different times
we created language because the mind is too voluminous for one; too lengthy that each word and semantic could be repeated and make new cosmos that rhyme or invite dismay
when we look at the sun in us it can also be the void the planets in it seem to be easily punched by stray asteroids or collided by manoeuvred ones
do we not destroy thoughts? start our own ice ages and eras? neatly following no definitive chronological order that we can map so definitely yet still our gut knows that space where we felt buried alive gasping for air; or when we were found from the ocean of ourselves.
My mind is not a paragraph; it is a circus of words a sanctum for old dreams and libraries of unopened books twisted with vines and shaped like picturesque gardens
My mind is sleeps like a seal on the bedrocks sweeps down like a hawk
My mind, my mind…oh how I have inherited you? disown you and merit you; make me singular and plural near to a black hole only to be anchored still in a home of stars.
| By and Syed Badrul Ahsan
My memories of you remain confinedTo the morning that came yesterday…And yet it was this morning, I think,That I saw you emerge, chewing gumBetween your teeth, you glowing in
| By and Zarin Rafiuddin
My mind is not merely an open paragraphwith sentences that abide all regular syntaxit runs parallel in fragments and intersectif they should or crash at different timeswe created language