Through the Borrowed Eyes

By Sreshtha Datta Sharma

In a dim lit gallery,
Stood a piece many walked past
Eyes too quick to judge
And legs too hurried to judge the next
All dismissed as flawed

Lines carved hastily
Curves left unfinished at places
Terrains wild, and unruled
Unfit for the legends

The stream,
'Too narrow' they say
'Too wide' they say
And dark forests in places where there were no seeds

The sculpture,
The map,
Till date are seen through borrowed eyes
But the creators and the bearers
They know
That magic lives
In the places
No one dares to read.