between us
are these glass window panes
dusty and
misty combined
i see a body
above it profuse light
it is facing me
as i write
my story and this
poem
i know there is no one
living in this house
all are in the monotony
of abandon
i am not afraid of you
another sculpted space
i call it
emptiness still
unaccepted
he calls himself
ghost
but i do not really mind
i too
have unfinished business
and by all means
i must finish it
now....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem