As the pen beings to write, it writes prolific, charm and the unsurpassable eloquence. Wished I so many things to be said Why could not I confide I do not know How does this happen People ask me I do not know is how this happens For every moment bears a story in the hindsight Say I, silent must go myriad a distance Why people are then perceived? Is it because this is an irreversible law Or is there some force at work The mind is incapacitated It perceives the language, one that is spoken The other while it is subservient There are number of ways to communicate Why then so much faith in the verbose feels Is something which speaks only needs to be attended? Or there is something beneath Even deeper than the mere verses Exploring thus the possibilities of the life manifesting voices Voices that sometimes despite being heard has to be feigned unheard The human being has every depth “But” is the word exemplified in severity “But” is the word cannot be lived without perfectly Why the depth then denies fathom - ability Why the depth says it doesnt want to be gauged Is it that it is interrogatory? Or is it that it is the reality? Figurative is reality and so is the meaning If comprehensible, it betters the place And throws us in alleviated state of susceptibility Framing therefore the eloquence Trying hard to reach conclusions Easy not it is Yet “pivotal state” remains stayed For the vision to unravel itself And the curtain to be drawn open Withdraw yourself comfortable thus within As the pen beings to write It will write prolific, charm and the unsurpassed eloquence
Posted on: Wed, 16 Oct 2013 21:08:11 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015