Induction of thoughts in the benthic
Pursuit of emancipation, notes scribbled
hid in a woven nest, misted with Arabian perfume.
Virile, the barometer of self satisfaction.
Dusted, I took out the fresh page of my torn book.
Pristine, bruised I smelt it, on turning further
Staggered a little, to espy the still anew faded white
pages of my adulthood. Unsure what to add, I grabbed my pen.
With the blue ink, I scribbled again. Yet another page,
Shaded, but afresh!