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Àŧùl Aug 2020
I know how cells are made
I know how to write genetic code
I know how clones are made
I know about disease-causing defects in the code

I know how to swim
Not just how to swim
I also know how to sing
I even compose music
And I also pluck a guitar string

I play the guitar
I play the flute
I play carrom
I play chess
I write poetry
I write novels

But the best thing I do is survive

I survived against odds when death came calling
I survived when most doctors predicted me dying
I survived 108°F fever when the virus was attacking
I survived that accident and now all I have is living
My HP Poem #1879
©Atul Kaushal
JR Jan 2018
There's a realm of perplexity
Beyond the walls of reality
A consequence of wits
Behind a shroud of eyelids
A constant sense of foreboding
Of every recent shortcoming
A conglomeration of me
And all i seek to see
But this depth is too deep
And the ***** is too steep
The pull is constant and steady
My own will feels petty
Condemned to my hazy abode
Muddled at the node
Seeking only to find a path:
The dreams of a polymath
A poem about dreams

— The End —