Never before have I felt the need to read another poet or
his deed,
Yet, when the reservoir of words, dries, and there swims in
it a feeling sublime,
When there’s a poem, a wisdom in the tilting of trees, in
the blueness of water,
Slimness of feet,
When the mundane is a
poem, lyrical and sweet,
When there’s no when, only the poetic now, the slavery of
words, ends,
A kinship of silence slowly descends, and every poet I read,
I become. |
| The Song of the Sufi Masroof |
3 comments:
Brilliant. Simply brilliant.
Lovely. Your words are soft, firm, and full of meaning. Very refreshing to read such writing.
@Biswarup, thank you so very much! Please forgive me for the delay in thanking you.
@Supriya, I am so glad you liked it :)
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