Painting by Sangeeta Suneja
The distance from a heart to mind,
is of deep, distant miles and miles,
spreading from the icy peaks,
An epitome of dryness
in trying,
to rise to a mountain, a high, to meet a sage, a wise,
slipping down an alley, steep, while,
getting back home from my monastery,
A broken back and a winter chill,
to climb up back,
next morning again to my hill,
my struggle is my favourite style,
fighting, to easily flow with a will,
I fly up and down, far and wide, a daily drill,
painting, pointing fingers at none,
but to touch the only my majestic one,
a music that flows,
around and in,
but I fail to reach, when with in,
I pray and plead, in my bare skin,
to wash off, in a surreal, my sin,
so that I do not lose,
when I have already learned, I am born to win!
~Sangeeta Suneja
composed on 09.12.2012
