Your own weather
Has its own sky of personhood.
Your weather of personhood is read
By every strange eye who wants to be familiar.
You become a broadsheet sky
With weather clouds of moods
Being exchanged and read.
We can have a soulful search
In awakening to know a fellow being.
A kind poem if mistaken
Can tell you to walk a few steps alone.
Gazing at the sky to aim high
As if a message will rain
Provides consolation,
A slight attire of confidence too.
What is a meaning if you don’t care?
Happiness to be multiplied
Seeks removal of weak gestures.
A broadsheet sky of smiles
Re-writes the tabloid sky of ashes.
Sky is just an outlook
And your earthly touch has healing powers.
Happiness and satisfaction for long
Is in calling happiness an
Optimistic choir of time.
Copyright Sushant Thapa
Picture by Nick Victor
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