~Arun Budhathoki~
Music Never Stops
Bubbly faith floating profusely
Between flippant contemplation and wall of desire
Weaves majestic zenith-clouds; sparkling fire clout
Heartbeats, falling ashes defile sanity,
Coy traveller enrapture weak currents,
Disfigured clouds entice my two young fingers,
Love of thousands: a mysterious stick between my fingers
Shrouds smirk making me flow back towards healthy streams,
Young vistas diving beneath the Devkota’s words
Zooms fire and ash
Among two youngsters,
A drowned voice croaks:
I am smoker,
I enwrap my liquid, slightly,
With ocean of fire, ash, smoke and heat:
I feel a fire burning my throat,
Same for tranquil mind,
We depart silently; confusion clings on mind and heart,
We pass through the midst of moving stones,
Old clouds moving beyond the horizons marks a poem,
I follow the rules; I follow an image in front of my drowning eyes:
I am smoker,
Darkness speaks the devil,
I follow disappearance:
Am I smoker?
A broken puff, single, removes ‘Wall, thought and currents.’
The journey inside other pockets
Turns me into fire, ashes and heat:
Will I smoke again?—
Never Until white sheets unlocks my heart,
And wine is still beside the ‘scary stick’.
(Source : Suskera.com)
