I long
To belong
To have circles chinking around my waist
And centres under my feet
Poised on top of a social mount
I shall overlook circles expanding their way
Into the burning arch of the sky.
Faint circular ripples
Shall ring around the tapping of my feet
Faint bubbles
Shall rush out from my sentences
And every time I dance in the shade of the trees
Faint halos shall follow me
Like luminescent children.
But reality is square
I, trapped in the square of my room,
Trapped in the square of books,
In the square of my mobile phone,
In the square of many doors I have shut myself away,
Circles never circle in my way
Or rather I never circle in the circle's way
I watch, bubbles merging and surging
In the distant grassfields
Where circles expand their way
Into the arch of the burning sky.
I long
To belong.
- Naychi
late 2018
Yangon
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