A poem I almost
did not write
I was running late
this Monday morning
Sun had already knocked
on the window panes
Rays were rushing in
warm and bright
Clouds that were busy
all night, raining
Had now parted amicably
giving way to clarity
Clarity as high, as calm
as the firmament overarching
As if everything was
going to be fine, again
But I was running late
rushing in to get into the routine
Mundane has its ways and vantage-
It can have you occupied (all life)
Without even missing the sublime
that you were too busy to glean
from an otherwise extra-ordinary
morning of spring
A poem I almost
did not write
for I was too busy
running late
to make the mundane mine.
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