Poetry

The nihil extract seeps into,
hungry roots of thoughts,
doubts the doubter.
I do not abandon the
flame of nil shadows.
Try to find the way back to home,
where I was born,
breaking my leash.

Equanimity suffered when
continuity bargained for
substance, while I opted for
emptiness where the space was enough
to turn the pages of life,
and I listened to the unhitched
voices of virgin lips.

Moon shadow in a self portrait
hangs on a tear
but I worshipped the sun;
Its heat melting my contexts,
entombed in scaffoldings of hope.
The crisp day witnessed
a miracle when no body
complained in black & white.