Shaping The Shapeless Poem by Neera Lollbeeharry

In the silent realm of a shady womb,
Where experience is but in liquid form,
Where the sinewy yarns of bodies loom,
Lay our souls, shapeless and warm.

At once, we resolved to dive into time,
To mould the shapeless into the flimsy cast,
Vaporous, we undid the process sublime,
And wound the clock to future, present, past.

Now dipped in flesh, we felt uneasy fear
Of trapping the timeless into brawny confines,
And as bodily shrouds blurred out the clear,
We crossed the sill to new worldly declines.