The innocent heart, gentle psyche,
Budding emotion, dreams
Were moved on the potter’s
wheel,
The wet feelings shaped slowly
By someone’s delicate fingers, on
The veranda among the tiny
Beautiful bloom, seasons have
Converted me on ceramic vessel,
the
Cleric touched my surface,
marked
The hymn, classified the
persona,
Filled the bigotry water, kept
On the worship place, trapped my
Life under the doctrine, I cried
That night, he had shown me
paradise
Through the kaleidoscope,
gradually
The venom of prejudice
reacted,
Hatred towards the art, beauty,
love,
Music, bloom, sculptors multiplied,
I couldn’t sleep on that night,
Perception revolted against the
Priest, I had rejected his
principles,
How can I betray the
potter?
He fills the love in my body
pores,
Everywhere, he created my
life
For love not for abhorrence,
Since that night, I’m facing
charges
Of blasphemy, I’m scattering in
The pieces beneath the cherry
tree,
Falling blooms are sheltering
me,
Consistently, my soul is moving
Generously in the land of
artist,
-- SHANTANU SANYAL
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