Mysteries

Whether it is pecking at the bathroom glass all the time or only when I go there is my mystery.What is the mystery in the sparrow’s mind about the bathroom visitors , their bodies wet in the knowledge of a pecking sparrow? A sparrow tirelessly pecking at own reflection is a mystery , set against futility of its effort.How the bird can be stupid enough to peck against own reflection, ignoring past failures is a mystery that overwhelms bathing bodies.

I cannot look in its eyes ,set too high and tiny, only sense a light squirm in its body as I enter.Overwhelmed by no mystery it squirms lightly which is the same each time I enter its space.

The quest for mysteries is mine, not sparrow’s.

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