We were meant to be a Unit.
THIS IS NO ROMANTIC STUFF.
The unit, rather.
Signifying an integral utopian bliss.
Perfection is, supposedly, a translucent slide galloping in my mind.
I could never have a jaw with it and thus have always executed it in vain.
We were meant to be a Unit.
A faith newly recognised,
A belief remoralized,
A religion revised!
I sigh!~ the Indian citizenry, if it would've permitted my essay to thrive, could've been a splendid exordium here.
It was also meant to be a unit.
A 'was' is all that matters.
Yes, you can yawn and twitch your muscles at the slight hint of tautology but the onrushing threat of appraisals growing prim won't hinder me Boy.
Seniority descends, Hierarchy prevails.... the rule;
The Rule is somehow knit by the undesired tit-bits: shamble turned into authoritative poise.
Neglected by convention.
Implicated in ignorance.
We were meant to be a unit and a 'were' is all that matters.
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