By Monish Chhabra ǀ July 23, 2019

All that carry
Doubts and query,
So deep and heavy
Sticks not with me.

The debt of reason
Its link, its line
In sleep, or shine
Tastes like sour wine.

Rowing, to sink the night
Land denies, sighs the sea
Seeking the turn in sight,
The day; only in thee.

Questions don't dissolve
With answers, they float
Whence, melt the knot
Arrow hits before shot.

Collected and piled
Yet, far to the fray
Stillness is the state
Of action; mere replay.