What Souls Recite

You are the poetry
I can never write.

For that world is
enveloped by desires,
too ancient, too wild,
And yet, too pure
for mortal eyes.

So let me write
of darker longings,
Let my words blanket
us in mortal lusts.

Where in between
words, sometimes in
our quietest hours,
You may slip in.

And beneath this
cage of fleshy needs
You will find our verse,
free like fire, like storms,
And you will know.

What souls recite
where pens fall quiet.

© Arindam Dey

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