Words don't make meaning
[differ]
It is same from one hemisphere to another
And does not mistake colour for light
An Atom Bomb can be mistaken for White noise
But Meaning remains the same
And falls onto us
Ruining everything
What remains is meaning itself
But, there lies a possibility
in its non existence
Its like giving birth
Knowing the forceps are in the hands of Death
...
Words flow like emotions
But sense is crude
and lacks sensibility
...
My eye looks out of my camera
right at the sun
only to get dazzled
But the click results into something
And my memory registers
An image
of the Empire of the Sun
...
A borrowed phrase
And a collage of words
in sync
produce meaning
ready for consumption
But, I am not a Poet
[Hence, Therefore, Herewith]
This is where I end my poem
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