Poem By Subhadip Majumdar

Often beneath the Lighthouse

Where the mystery ends and the magic starts

The wind awaits that ancient sailor

The sand grains his vintage words

His words like a day with the morning river

Or the shelter below the snow capped hills

Or the bare cry of the bird at midnight

Or like the blood of the first farmer

Like a shiver of a shadow in first kiss

Within all the dark and mud of the world

The look into her eyes like that pain never forgotten

He comes out pure and fresh

And then there is sun the poetry and again the rain.

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