The Unseen Treasure.. Dusmanta Choudhury

 

Hardly do I ever spring the ink
With a soft touch of eyes blink
Never ever do I open the casket
Unseen the treasure, yet to be met

The sky looks down so do the stars
Greatness is measured, & not mars
Their love is crowned not causative
The earth so behoofs for evocative

The day is passed so is the night
But no alteration finds as erudite
Epigram is made both in and out
Like the seeds are about to sprout

Ordinate was the role, for a time
But turned like urchin's pantomime
Is it an ordeal ? for upturn of mind
Finds the earth, to be ever aligned

The ink is dried, casket unopened
Cool breeze blows,yet be beckoned
Wind-swept is the grove, so no buds
Waiting for God's hap of the periods

Copyright @Dusmanta Choudhury