Musing 121 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

What if our dancers refuse for dancing
And demand the return of their urns
Stolen most improperly by the moral priests?
May be they do not arrive in oneness
May be the little extravagant to perspire
The blood premium from their catering veins
And gamble their stepping upon the stage uneven.
Can they pour down the spirit of age
Within the dark well undefined in their costumes
Shimmering in stage light unreal although.