The empty clutches of full palms
Hold nothing more than their fullness
Lost somewhere, found no where
Like a silver lining of moonless night
A vow of harvest by falling leaf
The vaporized drops in the light
From the slumber bereft buds at night
When the embers have spent crackle
Then the assurance to the empty souls
Ignites a leap in sluggish strife to limp
Whispers hope in sonorous winds
Those who surrender to the flow
Have nothing more to find their form
Like the free grip of empty hands
Lost somewhere, found no where.
Rudrapur
16.4.26
23.51 hrs
2344
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