“Leisure is the mother of philosophy” rightly said Hobbes

I have leisure which I might not have tomorrow

My philosophy is my poem

Sipping like air in me.

The first dawn of the winter

Takes my summer and I feel empty

My philosophy of life sounds heavy

I have emptied my desires to live

Perhaps, I have together thought to outlive the desires with my poems

I make my pen work

I am constantly dreaming

Some poets return the solitude in me

I study them in seclusion.

I question the air — why it drifts and carries the pain?

It questions me — why I breathe to live and feel the pain?

Leisure is all I have; I begin to live in the poems that I write.

By Sushant Thapa

From: Nepal

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