POETIC PLAY STUDIO

Walking through the flakes of my mind,
I identify the tale of memorials,
Mysteriously crafted with layers of doubts,
Often not happened,
But as remembered,
That’s a circle of continuity,
Never-ending stream of fragments,
Composed of felt impressions and unfelt emotions,
In the symphony of silence,
With uncertainty as a companion,
And losing a sensibility,
I discovered the joy of breaking,
The feeling of not knowing to be known,
A sense of loss to be lost,
Breaking spirits to be calm,
And recite the tale of our cracks,
Scars and imperfections,
Hidden behind veils of known,
A beautiful way of breaking the broken.