The snakes climbing up the ladders
The dices bearing all ones and threes
Tying the feet of clock with hours
Letting the hands sweep it clean
Juggling days on the rope of weeks
Adding years that no longer exist
The words, drumming of empty vessels
The Soundless, movement of the lips
Faces, like cutouts of paper
Discarded, clothing of the spirits
A million chests, a single heart
A million hearts, not a single beat
A sleeping world, a common dream
Endless illusions of reality
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