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