Striding through thoughts, I reach the brink

I hold the reins, yet I overthink.

Bogged down feeling hollow and futile,

I smile to myself, “It will take a while.”

A while to settle in, a while to compose, or

Perhaps a while to cast aside, I suppose.

The intoxication of solace, the solace in perception,

Of tasting a few drops from the limitless ocean.

I do not seek profusion, nor do I seek to be drenched

I only seek a pinch of paradise, for my soul not to be spent.

Sohini Mahapatra