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Facial
Quaid-Uz-Zaman 1954 (Jamalpur)
It is not me.
My wrinkles, my sunken eyes,mistrusted frames all are the magical works of divine time
neately knitted with the golden and silvery threads
embroidered in sophistry;
The old lady of the moon with always a smiling face weaving but with a pitiless hand.
Sinking a face within a face .
A mirror within a mirror
Even i do not recognize me.
A pure deception.
But a soul always without a little increase or decrease.
A shadow broken and dispersed but always contemplating and recombining itself.
A machinery always reviving
and i find it in secret ,undestructable.
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Citation
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"Facial" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 17 Jan. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/59452/facial>.