Durlabh Singh.
Poetry should move some Beyond the statistics
Not symptoms in dead ends Enclosed within cornets
Murmuring of numerous An elaboration perhaps
For the entangled dictions.
The spirit moves From end to end
In fastidious freedom Some instructs to convey
I heard it singing other day By a black birds in transit.
What the poesy demands I demand
What the spirit sings
I sing.
What it declares
I should declare
Into the depths of being To which I will declare.