Birth of a Poem

A poem is an expressive art

Nothing but a beating heart

A mind full of questions and

Soul full of answers;

A poem is a last song of the sleeping bird,

It is a quiet before the waking dawn

A poet is like an astronaut

Stepping into the new space

An infinite space within a limited time

Hence, a discovery of a lifetime

Everything that is touched cannot be gold

Just like nature that cannot be sold

A poem is not bought

But passed around, felt and told

A poem is –

Ageless and shapeless like water;

Formless and faultless like air.

A poem is around us,

We fall, rise and shine

It stays with us just so fine.

                                                                                        ~ Sushant Thapa

                                                                                          Biratnagar, Nepal

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