Unearthing
Thunder has a light
Of its own.
But we only fear its roar.
Life is not a bookish start.
The plots are not
Foresighted visions.
The adventure is
In unearthing.
You come all the way
Belonging to the spirit
Of travel.
We meet like feral wanderers
Unmasking the greyness
Of spring.
The dull time
Still moves the clock,
The patience between its hand
Is the new nerve,
That is telepathic
Between you and me.
The first sprinkle of promised rain
Makes us bury
Our moments of fragments
In being us.
Trespasses
I have an ambition
That keeps me awake-
The passion of understanding.
It is in the garage of pain
That I paint my vehicle.
Words fail,
But deeply entrenched tales
Flow like river-wine.
I glow in the sunshine
And the fall celebrates the arrival
Of snow.
Much later, the celebration
Goes unnoticed,
Yet divine play is the creation’s paint.
Imagining a hefty rise of life.
I dwell in creating a soiled pot,
Nature is a holy devil,
In its raw and venomous trespasses,
In awe and revelations.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet. He has published seven books of English poetry. His latest book is ‘Finding My Soul in Kathmandu’ published by Ukiyoto Publishing. He has an MA in English Literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi, India. He teaches English Language and Literature to University level students in Biratnagar, Nepal. His poetry can be found published in Mad Swirl, Corporeal lit mag, Dissident Voice, Poetry Breakfast, Spillwords, Sacred Chickens Blog, The Beatnik Cowboy, etc. You can follow Sushant on his substack at substack.com/@sushantthapa
Image generated on Magic Studio
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