How I wonder, what
I pulsated, from
The oeuvre of life
Your language speaks
So different, to my
Silent decipher
Yet of beauty
I gravitate, into
Your vast eyes
Does it orb freedom
Craving my sensitivity
Till my last commune
And you belong, not
To my tears, nor
Any deluge whatsoever
I lay, in eternal
Wait, to gather
Thy fount of compassion
” Fount of compassion ” ,engages the reader with its observations on the ethereal.
So engrossing thy comments Sir Louis Kasatkin!
Wonderful Tapeshwar…..eternal poem..
I am humbled by thy eternal comments Rashmi Malapur Ji! _()_