Sudipta Mishra, Puri, 10 February 2024
On an empty page, my ink bleeds throughout the night,
Under the starry sky, I paint my dreams.
My muses reflect my vision!
Stars in the sky witness the pain
That my pen releases again and again!
No one knows how many blank pages
Wasted by the bard to mirror the real sense.
By dipping the pen
into the pool of misery,
By churning the brain
into a whirlpool of a weird story,
Finally, I won the game!
Into the world of illusion
I travel along with my pain
With a mask of a smile
I weave my poems for children.
Nobody can discern the unfailing devotion
That a poet vows to design a sublime creation.
