Yesterday's Echo

I implore you,
not to bore you
but to adore you
in the now.


Mute the familiar music
of Restrospect,
and blast
the next moment's melodies:
       at times, static,
       at some, dynamic,
       but always alive.


There's a beauty
in the freshness
of the coming groove
that wills us.
And even if it kills us,
bests us,
We'll have perished fulfilled.


Dance to the haphazard beats
of the unknown
rather than waste footwork
on yesterday's echo.
And you will let go
of the pattern binding us.


Be a Sun,
blinding us with flares,
with flairs
for the random
and what will emerge in tandem
is love, laughter
and a guttural cry
to persist.


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