A Mystical Picture
The picture speaks to me,
Without spelling a hymn,
Drilling my heart to be calm,
Spreading my wings to imagine,
Planting my feet on this platform,
Subliming the spirit to be the crystal foam,
Questioning the wayward wind on the roam,
Arresting the nectar of the livings not to seek fun,
This picture speaks to me,
Without splitting the fossilized lips,
Without blinking of the crescent eyes,
Without shaking the neck of the stork,
This picture gossips thousands of stories,
Yet to be told, as I have stored the love in it,
The picture speaks to me in soft words,
I am in trance and don’t need any more swords.
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