If the brows of yours
are inhabited of rising,
And below them, the eyes
seldom forget to widen.
If you feel something
right there in the left,
The world, for your heart,
is planning a theft.
If you’re still a tourist
in this same old place
And you’ve learnt to walk
over tattered remains,
the remains of habits
of seeing your life,
Only then you know,
You are alive.
'The owl of Minerva' 
सुंदर अभिव्यक्ति
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Ji dhanyavaad 🙂
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Wow, once again, a poem so marvellous! I don’t understand how you write such incredible poems, but then again that is what talent is all about. Haha lol 😁❤
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Haha 🙂 Thanks mansi ❤
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I love your message here – it resonates with me very strongly, Apeksha. I know very little about poetry so don’t feel at all qualified to comment. But having said that, I think I would exchange ‘inhabited of’ by ‘engaged in’ and perhaps change ‘there in the’ to ‘there on the’. But these are trivial points – your work is excellent and you deserve a big round of applause for tackling a deep and profound subject with such verve and panache – well done! 🙂
Kindness – Robert.
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