Amidst the bidders, for whom
Spoken words make the market,
I resort to words unspoken
To be the voice of my own.
Survived, I have
Through nights and days.
To survive within each moment,
I call upon my soul.
Witnessing two reflections,
Having faith in faith, I
Echo with the right one
To shatter the illusory mirror.
Floating in the quietude,
I lay in pleasurable languor,
Flashing mysterious memories.
The euphoric touch is worth an adore.
Enjoying my thoughtlessness,
Journeying through imagination,
Seeking the nomadic contentment—
Aren’t they my usual writing chore?
Explored, I may have,
The footprints of many.
I wish a stroll along the path
That I will tread sometime soon.
© Suyog Ketkar
The Wordsmith 