​vision Poem by Shankhadeep Chattopadhyay

​The cherry orchard stands far away along with the passing waves

windy breeze chants the willowing wisps of the forgotten graves,

a dusky murmur of the setting sun silhouettes his dark veil

remaining borders of the bearish entity shall be failed

botched by the cloud of catastrophic cadences my soul yearns a shower

amongst the amorphous yesterday's glimmer shines my dark desire!

art thou the formless one who danced till the death?

art thou the weaver; the genesis; or the fate?

If you could capitulate my shadow onto thy dark veil,

my eyes would have sieved through the vision of Real.