These days I have often constructed poems
without burning my soul to fuse in it
or pinning my heart on its sleeve.

Nor do I sell my crystallized dreams now.

I merely let embers fly
from the ashes of observation
to be enameled onto molten sand,
some dunes blown into its structure..

changing shape with each reader,
as the wind changes direction.

Blowing music through the flute,
Without dismantling a portrait created,
the reader discovers himself in that poem !

Read more poetry, in Hindi too, Β at : http://purvikpulak.wordpress.com

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