Below is a short verse from my diary "Songs of the Mind". And I say to the mind, Look there is he, Is he a man or a woman? Seems cannot find his robustness! And neither has her chosen curve. And yet looks so joyous, so filled. What shall I call him? Sounds neither deep like a man, Nor sweet like a woman, He seems to be swept away by something, I have never had known, He seems like that cloud, that just lost itself, When it rained everything it had, unto the earth's feet. And all that left me pondering - Shall I ever reach there? Can I live without my name and form? What shall they call me, when am no more a poet? Ah! The lost cloud? ©Debanjalee Sen, 2020
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