'splendid!'
he thought
Gushing
Within...
As he saw and rode slow
A drenched wet monsoon evening road... tired was he...
A few moments back...
Even...
he was thinking
a death virtual and real kind when happened...
'i need to keep my thoughts within...
What's the need?
To make thoughts
Globally pasted
On walls?'
But then...
This monsoony evening so drenched...
This puddle reflecting only lights
Varied...
Like lightscape
Catching the dark's own delight...
Catching a heaven too
Different kind
But so true...
And one will just see it
And never think
And never get into
The poesy on float?
'is it actually possible?
Not to be in flow
When an evening wet
Such pictures of light
Present so marvellous?
So musical?
So Neptune like?
So dravidan?
Such?'
he smiled...
And smoothness
he felt all over his tired mind
And he rode...
The road...
The teacher...
As the road always stays...
The road of life...
Full of potholes
Which hold watery puddles...
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