Ephemeral Epitaph
We write
& rewrite
A renewed verse.
Some lines scribbled
Some scratched..,
An undiluted form of art,--
Crude,fresh
Innocently revealing.
Then we hide ,
From here and
From there.
Words invoked,
Expressions discharged.
And we guard ourselves
beneath the poetry.
Parchments pile up
One ,
two,
many.
We hide beneath
the hidden meanings.
And one day
it suffocates...
Is there any place to resurface?
We gasp under the falsehood.
And a paper buries us yet again
Silent,blank,--
Speaking the truth for Us.
What we couldn't
But did our Ephemeral Epitaph.
SoUmY@
[P.S.--This seemingly unrealistic thought process has a special note of thanks to give to Rukhiya for her warm and sensuous touch on this subject and for enlightening me with them]
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[P.S.: Did v make a deal of the copyrights to the chat? :P]
beneath the poetry.
Parchments pile up
One ,
two,
many.
I connect very well with this:)Finally it is the unspoken yet filled silence again...isn't it!
Loved the title, and the entire poem. It speaks more than I could ever tell you.
Thank you!