Celina Adrian

30,207 poems read


who is me
myself and
I search no more
no where
can I go
to find her
under the nearest stone
she did not appear
nor at the tip of the tree
did she stay
though her mind,
more open
than the last time I looked into her eyes,
still reaches -
fist clinching breeze
and even her name
has changed like the wind
without shape
or even attachment -
the alphabet has no words
to describe her existence
not even one letter
can render her to the simplest definition
maybe so
if meant to be a noun, verb and adjective
all at once
if that be the case
then quite possibly she can rest
comfortably in its meaning,
she still