Except For May Be: Poem by Deva De Silva

My seemingly unclaimed self
Indifferent to indifference itself
An empty vessel drifting
In a river flowing endless

A frivolous vase with a daunting leakage
Failing to restrain water in its bosom
Feeding to their qualms of my use – in bloom
Failing to nourish a bouquet of blue mums

I have no dreams that sound sound – whatsoever
I have no replicas of me replicated in honour
I have no mass of trophies amassed to show
I have no adoring audience to bow low
I have no pictures of me picturesque
I have no nothing about me unique

Except for may be:
My love for my own and unknown,
My love for creating art in all forms,
My love for nature and its amazing zeal,
And my undying love for life itself.