making my friendship with the water-pigeon does not mean <br />that i’ve acknowledged all devotion of the land-lotuses to river <br />without putting any note of dissent <br /> <br />I’m still plunging my face <br />into the heart of <br />black-soil <br />white <br />is my thirst in clouds <br /> <br />sometimes I wish to exchange the headlights <br />of my flesh and blood <br />with a ocean <br /> <br />and put my palms <br />together with regards <br />to say to my all time-cheerful chest-pocket <br /> <br />oh master let the age of my shadows <br />be not more vivacious <br />than the flower-bed after marriage <br /> <br />and without the help of any civic key <br />let the drinking-bowl of an wish-baul <br />walks as it wishes <br /> along my lips<br /><br />murari sinha<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-more-lunatic-than-the-sun-1/
