Rising from dust

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Yes, from dust I rise to clouds.

The rosy clouds I fancy around
may not be true but an illusion
I see out of my hallucination
for I rise from the depth of dust,
where I often slept with dusty cats,
on an empty mat in a rickety hut.

But I feel, I see I’m in clouds,
a temporary pleasure of floating
among rosy clouds, a fantasy,
which but I love ever to be in.

 
Copyright © September 23, 2019, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay