It is strange,
how you remind me of religion.
Just the other day,
The dampness
of your cushion inundated
The dirty narrow streets
Of my heart.
The way it floods in holy books
With poetic verses.
Noah knew it.
He knew how the mind fails as an ark.
For him it was not a flood.
It was an act of re-creation.
Maybe,
That is how
God plans everything.
All this.
Maybe,
Like biscuits in tea.
Love makes people porous.
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