Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
The crimson red when Cuprum meets the spirit flame,
Is it the flame that writes me, or do I write the flame?
A moment of thought and it occurs,
I write for All, the all in me and the me in all.
Life bubbles, and forms little puzzles,
Life is not mine, nor yours, it spans,
Jumping one man to another,
From Mind to Mind,
The poem is one vehicle,
Where life does time travel.
Comments about this poem (Time Travel by Hardik Vaidya )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings