Tumbling and shrieking mind with a scattered rumbling thoughts In the silent sealed room for one trying to pen down the picture inside Intense are the feeling but so tangled so much so in the knot of confusion Knowing not with what to begin... but surely have something to draw No, it is not about my dear beloved coz I had written hundreds line before and can write thousands, for her image is clearer than crystal and so ravishing that it skim all around my love bitten soul Neither it is about the restless world and crimson sunset or peaceful moon for they are always there; cool breeze and autumn leafs to embellish my lines But it is of my inner self and somewhere I belong to and descended from... It is my identity that calls and I am tired tired of hiding my face behind my finger Now I am torn and crushed from the inside between my thoughts and restive feelings If anyone hears my cry then help me, save me from this torment and tell me who am I? Tibetan? Chinese? Indian? Or a yellow book
“Torn feeling and a silent scream from the wretch sunken heart embed in the deep blue ocean where lonesome and sad thought rove in the open memories of TIBET”