Uniqueness circumscribes my life
Lays out the width and length
Of my landscape, making my
Path cross and merge
Interlink with
Familiar
Others
Knowing
The colors
Of leaves on parks
The language of birds
On trees, personalizing a
Path strewn with garbled images
Anonymity is never my choice, dispose
Even a poem fails to connect when we cannot form the right words to link and make it flow. So, must we reach out and feel, and grow in the feeling, and be enriched with more words.
I would hate to leave not having known myself or others, just a garbled image in space. What kind of a life is that?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deep meaning Check out my poem sun and planet
Thank you Pratik. I will.: -)