The new delight of silence
And the crescendo of music
Tulip trees and sunflower seeds
Are swon into the crevices of my mind
The petals are fallen and forbidden
I call to the angels of the night
The hyacinth and the black drops
And the fallen fishes of catastrophe
I sweep my pen dust across my room
Like love it flies into freedom and pain
Music is a doorstep away to vanish off
The electric traumatic rain
I taste like good weapon my own country
The people are on their salvation
As roads write off like meditation of past.
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Sayani Mukherjee
Picture Nick Victor
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