Learning to wait,
Reading brings my restlessness
To pin drop silence
Piano keys pause
Between musical rhyme.
The falling moon
Leaves its shadow
In my stars-studded pond.
The silence of the awakening bell,
My colors at rest
I play in rejoice,
Trying to arrange the cotton clouds
From my earthly spinning of the wheel.
I keep weaving the loom,
On and on.
The winter air,
Kisses the glass window
I wake up and erase the dew
Like my colorless train-wreck dream.
The seats of cuddle
Leave a memory seed
That grows like this poem.
I remember that
Sentences also have memories
When they grow like verses
I am told to kiss the pain
And come out from its aesthetics,
The only luck is that
I keep finding the aesthetics in pain,
When I emerge out of it.
My seed of pain
Grows without aesthetics, without me.
I want to pluck its fruit and taste it.
Sushant Thapa
Nepal
.