Without poetic seed there won't be prose. The entire network of branches, twigs, flowers, fruits and leaves is nothing but a commentary on the small poetic seed. So all ye wannabe writers, nurture the poet in you, who understands the value of pause in life, who moves slowly to watch everything, sight and smell everything. Brushstrokes of poetry softly touch the soul without disrupting its restful muse and bring out nuggets of love, compassion, harmony and peace. All content © Sandeep Dahiya
A grain turns to your morsel,
And maybe it was a bird, rabbit
or some other animal
that’s on your feet
or head or on your legs
or torso,
Be watchful,
For your carry the sad marks of
transformation on your skin.
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