I dropped it that day

And it broke.

Hundreds of pieces got scattered,

For me to collect again.

But I remember that my hands didn’t fail

And my fingers opened voluntarily.

Perhaps it was necessary,

A beautiful conspiracy

Which later proved to be a therapy.

Sometimes the mistakes that we do are actually done deliberately by our subconscious mind. Later we realise that it was a necessary therapy for us.

–Nishant, The Poet and the Pen