Away from the glimmers of
world, in her borrowed
little corner, she is filling
colors on an empty page,
symmetrically aligned,
artistically designed,
making mandala art.
Just for- you know
who! not anyone specific,
but just for herself.
Art made in innocence,
kindness rendered in innocence,
and stories written in innocence,
are priceless
But both once lost, can
not be reclaimed.
I found her immersed in
her art in the room, and
out on the narrow road
a man held another by the
the collar of his shirt and abused
like a chant in flow.
We live in a world of juxtapositions.
Stay with
Prerna ЁЯЩВ
