Poets

Poets

drenching my

world

in sugary distant numbers

of windless bamboo shoots

swaying up and down below

the foothills, undetected

by surveillance, translations

of

love continue into the

morning dew,

as rays tip toe into the

secrecy

of the tangible, wanting only

to hide beside

the slithering rocks of

devotion, tapping

only the depths of love,

that can jump, cross and

crawl

a bridge of infinities,

equated only to highlight the

capacities of turbulence

glorifying love in the utmost

bleak of occasions.

Not

because of reasoning

sequences of

wiseman but because of the

humiliating

passions of the sparrow on

the

naked window-sill,

balancing only with the aid

of a wire beneath the feathery

Toes, birds reside and take

off.

 -Sophia Ojha Ensslin

Sophia Ojha

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