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

                                                                                                    Biratnagar, Nepal

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