Knock on my Door

I tell the suffering,
you were too sincere. Without
ears I listen to the voice of void.

Scatter the tears on
rose petals. I learn the shock of
weather, when vision is lost.

What happens when
you walk in water to kiss the
bottom of the sea only your hands are visible.

Poet is a sensitive being. He perceives what other do not. He nay delve the depths of truth but people can see only what he does.

Rajendra Singh Baisthakur , Nellore, AP, 524003