Ever Migrant Poem by Seshendra Sharma Seshendra Sharma

My eyes are of nomadic tribes
Never in search of anything in particular
They are two vagabonds like butterflies
The will less ramblers
And drunkards
In a garden of colours and scents
Their motion knows no straight lines
Angles or curvatures
They move I unpredictable directions
In desire less freedom
Like the feet of children
Like the limbs in a dance
Like pure fantasy-
My eyes are not birds
Flying for a destination
They are ever migrant like clouds
Who know no horizons-