By Sushant Thapa

I have left my words
Where my shadows do not reach.
The moment of bliss
Is a kissing freedom of virtue.
I have my vice
Yet I forget not
To roll my life’s dice.
I have a measure
To count the blessings in life.
There is a coal of agony
My only repetitive metaphor.
I am like a rusted cage
That knows its freedom.
Take me not for a dying soul
I can flower like stars.
There is an empathetic spear
Where the heart beats.
I beat for you
Dear agony;
You are my healing companion
Without you no blooming
Is possible.