Perception

Beneath the real, the horses run

Into the journey of the unsought

Amidst the woods, in the deep red sun

Racing through web of memories caught

Ponds of muddle makes one wonder

Is it half empty or half full ?

Imminent midway makes one ponder

Half way through or half more to pull  ?

With plethora of petals that unfold

Admire the rose or blanch the thorn?

Mirage in a mile the eyes behold

Is it indubitable or a con ?

Run persists, speed unprecedented

Into the unforeseen so slender

Back into real, thoughts fermented

A tantalizing mind so tender

--Supriya