I will never be able to―
tell the full story. Winds
are changing and―
the innocence has ended.

Centuries of recital now
starts the inquisition. It haunts
my psyche. In deluge―
the ferry will ever come?

Yesterday you had seen me
in a very vulnerable state.
Even gods weep.
Do you know what is muse,
goddess of art and an inspiration
of a poet?

In one of the poem I had
asked my muse, can you prey for me?
This is my style of conversational
or confessional poesy.
What do you say?