Prisoner Of The Dark
There is always a call, from outside a call
Yet I stay rooted in a dark theater hall
There is an outside where the sky gets paint
The birds busily tweet for my ears to be lent
The sunrays stretch their hands for me to come along
The winds want me listen to a long forgotten song
I want to run out there, to see and smell it full
As the rain comes from heaven for the parched earth to be cool
Once I soak in them, feel them inside me
The moon coming out of clouds sets my spirit free
The call is loud and clear, it is all over me
In a dark theater hall, I only dream to be free!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Added by Poetry Lover
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