I have learnt
That the stone beneath the thorns,
Can only be blown by the whirlwind.
But the pebbles on the course of man
Tour with ease the enveloped earth
I have witnessed,
The toothless word has million teeth,
Which can bite a writer by his wrist.
The footless poem has a jillion feet
Which thus makes it a living organism.
I have read poetry,
The ones crafted on skating boards
After being cooked in wit's furnace.
Those words loaded on horse's back
Leads readers to unreachable depths
I want to write words,
Those that sniffs breath out of life
Those that wanders around like ants
From the huge larynx of writer's mind
To the hungry stomach of the readers.