The pen

The breeze blew away the old, loose,Β  papers,

The ink spread coloring the destiny’s scriptures,

The serene, silent sky was cloudy, black and dark,

It suddenly thundered with a bolt of lightning spark,

The spark enlivened the dried, dainty, old pen,

Giving a tender, sweet and pleasurable pain,

The pen kissed the color of the dark boundless sky,

Passionately determined to give it a serious try,

It danced on the paper expressing its ecstatic joy,

Charming, fascinating, graceful, bold and coy,

When the heart-shaped clouds rained love drops,

It wrote on and on with the sky-dark ink drops,

It’s bliss painted infinite miraculous pictures,

Coloring life and painting the destiny’s scriptures.

Copyright 2017 Chitkala Mulye (Chitkala Aditosh)


45 thoughts on “The pen”

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