Once Poem by arka chattopadhyay
Once
The deaths carried by sounds,
Are the deaths that we evade.
The depths trodden by life,
Are the depths that we create.
Just let me be your soul,
That lulls the dust to sleep.
&
Then
Awake
Afresh,
When all the sounds are dead,
You have no hole to dig
You have no skin to scratch
Just scratch upon your sin
A still-image of life!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
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4/25/2024 3:27:16 AM # 1.0.0.1119
