When the loose imageries in thoughts
Reveal the purely filled colour
Of the poem which is yet to be born,
Manifestation goes on a journey.
Building the tighter walls of budding imageries
Sensibility mixes in the pool of art.
Yes, capable is the mind to be particular
Yet, it wants to take a stroll in the meadows of spontaneity
Where the unsaid is sung and the sung is said
Conscious words dance to the tune of the rhythm;
Spontaneity flows in the river of meaning.
Holding the pieces of glorious reflection
You and I are there in the world
Our life is never like planned
Such is the life of words, filling the spaces
Like different crystals of same pieces.
~ Sushant Thapa