A dead matter,
Flown out soul,
Though I intend, I indulge
Many a times I kill
Rendering to death
Offspring to shape.

Give life!
Though the ink is cold
Every sitting, a new transplant
Born in solitude,
Words are the oxygen,
I let you breathe.
Thoughts where I am grown,
Feelings, I am planted in
Before I let it run.

Quietness is all I ask
The hen is brooding
Eggs will break
Life is coming out.