It matters no more now,

If I write a story or a poem;

because in contentment

is a stillness in motion.

Gone are the days when

every little thing mattered;

became a topic , its form

in prose; a general norm.

A restless mind  had often sought

a vent to let out pent up feelings,

an ear to lend then there was none,

The open diary my company,

had received my pen;

flowing thoughts with never a bend.

But in stillness there is none,

for all merge in one.

Silence pervading, quietness loving,

all feelings reach a saturation,

when bliss is forever in motion.

My pen rests ...........!

Sumathi Mohan

8th Jan, 2012

9.16.p.m.