Sushant Thapa
There are nectars of bliss
And nectars of departure.
I choose to bleed in love
Than drown in hate.
You are a sensation—my reading temptation.
I read with my heart
And my art is your spontaneity.
We have walked alone
We have known the measure of being,
An ounce of desire
Is like the aesthetic ether
Searching for its roots
To bask in glory and shadows,
Where we can rest in love.
-Biratnagar-13, Nepal
