Nothingness Poem by Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

In my recent dreams,
I awash myself
In the spirit of the fish
Streaming steadfast
In the torrents of the rivulet
Of the sufferings.

Whenever I endeavored
To surge my course against
The currents of the rivulet
That coerced my route
To the sufferings
More and most.

My essence of not emerging itself
Into the rivulets to the river,
Then ceased in the serenity of ocean,
But to converge myself
To the source of the rivulet
That's nothingness.

Is it my effort futile?
Shadowing the sun
To thaw the iceberg
Into the new moon icicles -
Indeed the times melt it down
To the oceanic ocean.

When the white hawks
Soaring to the sky azure
That's the illusory of mirage
The stark beauty of the depth
Of the sane lucidity.
It's color of nothingness.
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