somewhere in the floating
island of fireflies, all
the dormant
memories
have
been returned back from the edge
of downstream, everything is
now looking as washed
in the first rain of
premonsoon,
again
a beautiful morning is knocking - -
the door, sound of far-flung
trains now losing their
vanity, the arrival
of the morning
fills all
the
emptiness of silence, life's hustle,
and bustle is as usual continued,
as the competitions have
been started again
for the survival,
that's the
beauty
of life,
in the twists of the flying bridge -
the increasing traffic shows
the race of survival,
the game of hide
and seek is
continued
amid
the sun and clouds and the sky is
the silent spectator - -
* *
- SHANTANU SANYAL
