Written by Brahmjot Singh

Shadow of zephyr
Forms on a blank page
From within or beyond—
Unknown
Arriving through the soul
Dancing in the nerves
Flow of the words
Pleasant as petrichor
Mere flesh and bones
Are alive now
Things were better heard
When silence spoke

Heaps of praises
And gathering applause
Realising he is unworthy of
For nothing is—his own
A nightingale
Singing the immortal song
And this being his worth
Pending—the quill rests on the scroll
Leaving the hymn forever
For another to carry on.

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Brahmjot is a first year postgraduate student studying Business Analytics. He relishes spending his time writing, reading, and pondering about the cosmos.