Painting Courtesy — Huta, The Savitri Series.

My mind is squeamish for its beaten now
All tricks are spent and nothing to show. 
Like a shy hesitant child it is wary
To pick a new thing to soothe its curiosity.

All it learnt is forgotten somehow,
Its functions in spurts it doesn’t know. 
But in a musing’s poise it channels some hint
Of shining words and ideas of a better mint.

Often even there is a sudden inrush
Or word-visions birthed in a hush. 
Or a force rattles the fleshy brain,
Flushing all debris from this channel main.

I shed this mind-nature, this seal of humanity,
For there shall live a light-mind of divinity.