Out of the 'Visage-cave'
buzz out a swarm of words
and take flight in a jiffy
with butterfly wings of a verse.
The flight or cluster goes up higher;
the bills, the urns and the nectar
rest in the azure cusp
with a halo sparkling brighter!
What benediction will occur?
Any silvery dust will they shower?
Once Jehovah offered holy mamma-dew
to a band of dog-tired travellers;
no such phenomenon will recur!
When dreams dream a verse
they pair and share a new universe;
light years away from this earthly curse.
Thus such flocks of words,
many or few,
crawl up into the hidden sanctum
and the 'Visage-vase'
now turns a verse.
