This is My Home

My thinking takes a
turn. An artist speaks inside me.
I am not creating a fancy poem.

My neighbour wants to
climb the wall, not of Sartra. Not
speaking lies to me

All my life, I remained
confused in understanding the
world. It was my spiritual superstition.

A thinker always changes his ideas as he progresses. An artist goes by his conscience. The world is a conglomeration of many complex things. Unbiased approach alone protects one from spiritual superstitions.

Rajendra Singh Baisthakur , Nellore, AP