Like a century-old art hung in a somber museum
Life is a question of proportion; pay attention
Inside her head, thoughts form in unknown alphabets
Like shipwrecked hearts dive into azure evenings
or stones were thrown into a silent lake
Summer lightning
A sad breeze passing through Asoka trees
Sentiments balance on the golden silence of wings
You who ache for the calmness of a second
And yet hurry off on a rope for a change
Remember
Those words are only true, which do not insist on meaning.
