Doors Are Closed

Doors are closed Doors are closed, windows are closed, The vessels know the noise they have And I enter into the suspection of dreams That sometimes cover the bouquet of my brain cells with enthusiasm and thrill unknown Decrease the moments So dear they speak Not only do we freeze the signatures of pleasure with the glory of our own songs… Say those unworthy jars squarish curvilinear. Wow, the exuberance of wisdom so alone I see And get my precious mind wrap its disease Into the carpet of truthfulness and sensitivity. Do not hide it from the happenings of today and tomorrow Let it all swallow the stern smile so patchy on the wooden plank And let the space utter the galaxy of short stories Sparkling on the twinkling variety of stars wrapped in the beauty of the vacuum. Talk about it, Let the lost untold bounce once again on the transitory wall Let not the waves gather into a lake And let the freshness so maintained speak about the spring created first in the first seconds of birth. Rashmi Pitre. copyright