Rough Sketches


In the blowing wind
The papers have been scattered.
In the broken wheels
The journey has been awaiting.
The glasses that reflect
Have withstood with pain.
No misery is seen on the face of courage.
No decorations adore its charm;
Yet, the moon gets fixated.
Its light glows warm for the one who sees.
The curtain of revival
Open and cast true impressions.
When the measure of time
Is a walk of life
The paths emerge from rough sketches.
The rocky jolt,
The memorable riverbed,
Footprints on the sand
Are like the wake of spring.
Lost is only aimless
When no intentions match.




Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor

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