A poem should be soundless as the flight of birds...A poem should be equal to not true....A poem should not mean but be.

The Angle, the Beauty.

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Beauty stood  before me
An Angel with radiance
Her sparkling eyes
Her immaculate face
That hypnotized me to ask.
And like a small child
I closed  my eyes and asked
“O’ Angel, O’ Beauty
Tell me where do you reside?
Is it in the lap of nature?
Or in a mortal body?
Do you reside in a heart?
Or do you prevail in a soul?”
She gently touched my closed eyes
With her angelic beautiful fingers
And slowly replied,
“Open your eyes, my child,
For this is the pair of eyes
Who beholds me,
I touch one’s heart with love
I make one’s mind imagine
I cherish in one’s memory
And I reside in one’s pure soul
Search and you will find me
Deep inside your own soul
For it is the Beauty in you
That makes me The Angel, The Beauty.”


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Dinita Rai
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