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Prajna Paramita Mohanty

Romance

3.7  

Prajna Paramita Mohanty

Romance

Poem: The Flow

Poem: The Flow

2 mins
12.2K


You are there and will remain there,

Till the poetic rhythm is where.

I will be reading you in every beat of the word,

In every affection of odd.


I am not the lifeless sand or the craft of the craftsman.

As a human being made up of the sense, emotion and paltipation.

You are a body of shadow, not the rigid stone,

But the essence of life, the burning desire of one.


There is an epithet of silence in the heart.

Can't tolerate you in tears, hence affection and alert.

As the words on the paper, to flow, to see is also difficult.


Flowing is happy, I am becoming empty while making you complete.

You are the ultimate happiness and what the extreme sorrow depletes.

"is awaiting a sorrow ?"

-an inclination to grow!

"is what a sorrow actually ?"

-all the states of a heart, fully!


The myth of happiness...

The ephemeral of longingness,

The paranoiac life,

All those sum up to grief...

Hence no sigh of relief.

No condition left... no disappointment,

Seems these destined!...Seems these determined!


Truth and love are one word, sounds like same,

Like the moths attract towards the flame,

No! No, I never try to do it blame,

Like love teaches the truth and fame.


If you are coming, do come with all your being.

If leaving, leave like the void, totally losing.

Some feeling like a dream, slowly, slowly scream.

There is a continuous flow of stream inside,

So, don't let me immerse aside.


Restraint is in flowing,

The appraisal of lovemaking...

Also the ecstasy of getting!


Grief never reflects, always remain like the shadow,

No detachment from illusion, it guffaws and I bow.

Neither able to remove this nor able to wear this.

Difficult to resist, difficult to insist.

In chain the hand and leg, restricting to peg.

The soul is a free bird...no, no a broken-winged bird.

It has not to be freed, not to be confined!


Salvation is not needed for me, the difficulty of bothering-

The poem leads to the deterioration of forward-moving.


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