Two halves .. inked on its fading yellow
With Crinkled words being fugitive to it.
They speak of one such day and in reminisce
A drop smudges it with the colours of black.
Reflecting their presence
That articulated into the craters of time,
They reveal a saga untold,
Coveting the infinite textures upon the page.
Resolute with the an incessant quest,
Clasped to the wings of translation
They rise afloat across the ambit
Exuberant, reaching the azure abode .
-Dr. Rumana Sinha Sehgal
WILDsound Festival 