I leap, in determination
To reach the tip of perfection
The tip of the pencil
Accelerate
Amid the snow of the paper
Colliding, converging , and diverging
From the menacing gorges
Freshly cut into the flesh of snow
Some faint testimonies
Of prior failure
Taint my heart
With faint pain.
Friction strangles with speed
Each sets new boundaries
And occupies new colonies
The map changes
And I steer
An intuitive angle
And continue
Into an uncertain certainty
Fear steams and hisses
In an angry, red-hot cauldron
The clock ticks
A crumpled burnt paper rolls on the floor.
- Naychi
17th December, 2016
Yangon
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