My God is not necessarily yours
Unfolding the complaints of a posted letter
Where there is nothing more and nothing less
Left before every eyes.
The looser of the ar needs to be heard
Sketching the beautiful darkness in a heart.
The polar dances smile
That is meant to happen for a filtered fate
Under the pair of halves of anything
To finally become complete
All drinking from the same water
But the locked eyes meet one another
Towards a different direction
Still reach the destination
For those who hit the bottom never wake up.
I never say good night
While looking at your face
So as not to forget
Knowing well it will soon be dark.
The whole architect stands unmoved
When I am an image to myself
To light up the expiring face
That I cannot see again.
The spider web cracks in an argument
That wants to be free from itself
But just wants to love the empty canvas
Where the painter is inspired to paint
Never to draw a conclusion of the folded life
Undeniably hungry
To start it again and again
Though every cloud contains a moon.
Copyright@ Dr Sudhansu Dash
