The poet and his words ..................................... Intent on the mirror the poet forgot himself His image absorbed him and he became his image. The words could not enter the mirror And could not recognize him. Confused, without a guardian, they roamed like street urchins Went to walkers, sitters, talkers. Carelessly one walker rolled a bunch of words into his bank notes. They became breathless, suffocated and lay fainting. A talker used some as spice of the paan And threw them out with the crimson saliva of his tongue. They lay inert with the spittle. The sitter heard the murmur of some of them. He thought these were some flies buzzing. He was mad at them, he cursed them and changed his position. At last, the poet woke up as if from his faintness And struggled to step out of the mirror. Now he knew, Without his words he was worthless. The words found their magician And metamorphosed into song.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 23:11:38 +0000
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