Nothing about it is permanent except
Going over edge in a Gondwana plain

A ninety feet drop in an abyss of spray
A fog of death ‘s hell, a brimstone fire

Serrated like winter sky , a green bush
Hanging slowly, now here , now gone.

Go down to the hellish depths,in fog.
Look your eyesight up to pure white

Streak from old sky, a permanent sky
Holding no permanent water ,but fall

A fall dizzily impermanent, set in blue.
Nothing permanent ,not even the sky.

(Chitrakoot waterfalls in Chattisgarh)


About nisheedhi

Retired banker with poetry and photography as chief interests
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