कविता
Deep in the mind, caught and confined,
In storms of turmoil, troubled and blind,
Left to wrestle, left to pine-
Such are the dialogues, lost in time.
They are dialogues, yes, in name,
Yet neither speaker nor listener claim
The peace or rest they seek to gain,
Words unheard, like silent rain.
Words grow from letters, unsatisfied,
Their fresh new forms cannot abide,
With unrest housed deep inside,
Contentment’s door stays closed and wide.
Heart uneasy, mind unsettled,
Purpose unmet, intentions nettled,
Voices falter, feelings nettled-
Dialogue weeps, its fate unsettled.
Anil Kumar Mishra, Ranchi
