A lumbering cradle of stone-flesh,
its horn curved into an arch
from which tiny stars and paper fish dangle—
a nursery mobile for the sky.
It walks slowly,
because it carries the dreams of newborn constellations,
and if it ever sleeps,
the ornaments begin to spin
and whisper lullabies to the moon.
Published by Shaharee
Shaharee Vyaas is a polyvalent cryptomathician. As such he likes to hover above the demarcation zone between Science, Art, and Religion. Where most philosophers perceive the language as the limit of our knowledge, the cryptomathic method crosses the language barriers and stipulates that the unspeakable can be expressed in paintings, music or mathematical equations.
View all posts by Shaharee
The Maharajagar 