April 5 – written as part of the National Poetry Month Challenge.
There's a world
across veils of gossamer wisps
with no roads, or rivers to cross,
neither far nor near;
they say, it is right here.
We can slip in,
but like names on sand
as wind and waves move in,
we leave no prints.
Cloaked from sight,
gliding behind night eyes,
the only doorway,
they say, are through dreams.
Lush with wild colours
beyond imaginings,
and tender music that heals,
it lies silent. Waiting.
Waiting for when open eyes
remember what is
no longer a forgotten dream.
- Binu Sivan
PAPER DREAMS 