The Horizon Drops Poem by Soumen Chattopadhyay

On both sides of this mountain road
Our village
Draws, every day, one familiar view
Deep in light-line solitude of the morning

Fable-stream-seed of birth
Come and come back in the profound grief

In my unknown history
The vacant person inclines on the ground

Piercing the silence, spread and rowed
Of the long domes, besides the crematorium
Any one truth; half-truth or the mythical philosophy
Makes the land of rough and arid stone, immortal
In the night of moonlight

Thereafter, the loving glands
Free up my entity

I see, at the mountain lap
The horizon sinks in place

Buddha is very near
In our womb-house, in eternal impulse