Poetry is a state of being
A flowing feeling
The heart-brain bus
For your taste-buds
Poetry is a way of being
In constant need of freeing
One of the inner restrictions
The tensions the frictions
Poetry is celebrating
The inner restrictions
Beating as formless
Heart in the form’s chest
Poetry is fleeing
The cunning pleading
Of one’s own dictators
To one’s own traitors
Poetry is transcending
The word’s ending
For a new world’s beginning
In the back-ground birds’ singing
Delhi, 10. 07. 2007
