A tiniest cog in the mechanism.

I, me, myself.

I run.

For a paradise

I have never seen

I have never heard

A mirage.


One circle was over.

The machine slows down.

The gloom

The exhaustion.

Dulls down.


The darkest hour passes.

The dawn had broken.

Another circle starts.


A difference?

A tomorrow?

I hope.


By Rukshali Hapugoda

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