The storms will feel our calm,
The rains will cry in elation.
...
We do not talk of poets anymore.
We just talk of nuances,
...
We are not the tanks of battle,
We are miniature splinters
That cut through slender tissues
And create ruptures beyond repair.
...
A poem travels
From the dusty lanes of the small town
...
A few newborns
do not even get to realize
that there are better people
in this world than the ones
...
When love drips out drop by drop
From the mouth of the dead lover
...
Is it a child's play
That thoughts are a secret
...