I wonder,
What it is called to be me?
I am an empty vessel,
Identified with it's clay.
Fool to call it's my beauty,
Knowing that it will break someday.
Then what I'm?
Am I the in, or the out?
What it is called to be mine?
Am I the filth, or the divine?
Then I see life around me,
A bird is never willing to be a tree.
They don't struggle their identification,
And that doesn't lead to life limitation.
Now I know,
I'm not the vessel.
I'm the empty space.
I'm just a matter of time,
Slowly ticking towards my grave.
- Niladri ganguly
#kavyotsav2
