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Sonali expresses the futility of existence, with hope, in this poem, exclusively for Different Truths.
Few words will be written perhaps,
perhaps it will either remain empty…
some dots, or pause, or may be some scratches of mark!
I don’t know what the content should be
if there are some,
or perhaps it holds a vast nothingness…
emptiness fulfils the white surface!
I don’t know where I should go!
A decade ago,
some words were written in the depth of the paper,
which are still preserved
with utmost value and care!
Those words are breathing,
and I can clearly relate
with that breath, as if,
trying to tell me something!
They are just like braille, upon the paper’s chest,
which are always in touch with it!
I don’t know even what the words are,
to whom they are carrying messages,
and how may they reach the receiver!
As if I am just floating in the breeze,
over the hills and meadows,
close to the clouds
that reflect rainbow
behind the walls of clouds!
As if, I am just a floating blank paper,
don’t know even,
what will be written in it by whom!
Or may be filled with nothingness…emptiness!
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