A poem that breathes

Jigme Palzom Bhutia

As the clock stroke midnight,
The world stopped, started to blur;
In the pale of the moonlight
A voice itself a song, start'd to murmur;
A lost horizon of stars
Unravelling through his eyes,
His hidden, brave scars
Glistened like fireflies;
The magic in his soul-
Embrac'd, unmatch'd- loved by me
His beauty as a whole-
Form, vaster than the seas;
For him, a garland of praises
With tender hands I'd wreathe;
Out of the many countless faces,
He be my only poem that breathes;


  • Just the warmth that these words capture while the setting is essentially under the cool moonlight clearly signifies the passion that shines through and is obviously the central theme. Elegantly written and even better presented.

    Aarush Deora
  • Absolutely brilliant! Inspired!!

    Neenv Raju Akunuri

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