A Complex Number

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


I'm halfway past this one,
and long before it becomes one,
I usually erase the
entire thing
I chose to call a book.

But after a while, one thinks,

That like energy,
the truth radiates in spurts.

That continuity is a daydream,
That all growth is involuntary.

That not all coincidences are coincidental.

That like things, people too must die.
That just like the root of a negative one,
One too, was an imaginary i.


Submitted: March 27, 2021

© Copyright 2021 nkshirsa. All rights reserved.

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