Where does that voice come from
the one in my head.
Where does that path open up
the one in my head.
How does one go deep within,
cut the noise out.
Believe and not doubt.
How does one become sure,
of that what no one else knows,
of that what no one else believes.
a gut instinct.
a tremor.
a fall.
But aren't we all products of chance?
So if we exist, why can't that voice.
Copyright Richa Mohan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sublime start with a nice poem, Richa. You may like to read my poem, Love And Lust. Thank you