Sometimes, when I sit on my couch,
Enjoying an aerated drink
And enjoying at the flitting and fluttering
Butterflies of a dozen captivating hues,
I think of the two-humped camel
Plodding its way on the desert dry
And the beaver making the dam.
My mind becomes transcendentally pure
And beautiful like the Taj Mahal,
Epitome of beauty, love and craftmanship.
I start seeing the world, not as it is
But as I want it to be like.
My feelings start revealing more
And parading less.
Everything evens itself out.
The false promises of the metaphysical world
Evaporate like water on grass
And from the crevices of my heart,
I dig out pearls of wisdom
Which turn out into
Natural code breakers.