Thursday, 23 November 2017

Naught

Space is not tinged by the
Shapes n colours
Formed on its surface.

Virtues n vices
Do not stain the mind;
Clouds have no roots
No home.

No rationale in the
Distinctive thoughts
Floating through the mind.

Being in natural self
Yoke can be broken.
Mind, void in essence
Yet embraces n contains.

© 2017 B.S.Saroja
23/11/2017

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