I know, I know it very well
The map is never the territory.
...
A voice was heard
Soft, violin like, as if
...
These poems
Are the only roads left-
...
Words of course are important
They are important for many.
...
In those poems,
My sufferings were like
...
The seasons have an order-
The way they appear
on the planet, we dwell.
...
Poems,
like dishonest servants
...
As my poems whisper to me,
Like they did never ever before-
...
This time
I was no more alone,
...
Such is the case with us.
We poets are helpless,
...
It was but mine,
My poem, my quest
...
Like the parabola,
as they say,
is the locus
of a moving point
...