At the end of the buckled road, poem by Manash
The relations are bumpy in patches,
smooth in the rest but when there is bedlam,
the bumps become aware of their evil.
All around there is the enlargement of the jungle
rimmed by the nerves that stands like sentinels
against the low sky. When the relation
would start thriving, the disheveled bed
would get harmonious night…
then
everything gets dissolved in deep silence.
The heaven is seen at the end of the buckled road.
©Manash Choudhuri
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