The cup cracked at the bottom
To pour out the last drop of water
Just to have an answer
To empty out all the contents.
The wine laughing at the passing time
The finger prints wish one another
When the cup receives the intimate thoughts
Staring at the lost reflection at its depth.
All the promises carefully forget
That once there was life
In the overflowing emptiness.
The substance of the hollow words
Reflect the sweet blindness for a temporary thrill.
The day tells a lot of stories
In the pages of a neglected book.
Questions in the blinding light
Go mute on the weightless paper
To follow the soundless smile of the dry water
And to make the honey sweet
Because of the flower’s love for the bee.
Copyright@ Dr Sudhansu Dash
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
The cup cracked at the bottom
To pour out the last drop of water
Just to have an answer
To empty out all the contents.
The wine laughing at the passing time
The finger prints wish one another
When the cup receives the intimate thoughts
Staring at the lost reflection at its depth.
All the promises carefully forget
That once there was life
In the overflowing emptiness.
The substance of the hollow words
Reflect the sweet blindness for a temporary thrill.
The day tells a lot of stories
In the pages of a neglected book.
Questions in the blinding light
Go mute on the weightless paper
To follow the soundless smile of the dry water
And to make the honey sweet
Because of the flower’s love for the bee.
Copyright@ Dr Sudhansu Dash
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