Loveliness. Simply. Squarely. Inscribed in a square. Whirling. Wobbling. Come. And fallen off. Into. Loveliness. Which because it is its own self. Does what pleases it most. Spanning and climbing and sliding. The. Loveliness. Terrain. So that moving. Twisting. Lifting. It. Is. Lovely. All face. But not facile at all. And not beyond. Most definitely not beyond. As if. The comma. Between the here. Passing. And the there. Waiting to pass. Which waits. And, then. Waits for itself. Waiting. So that there is never space. For anything. But loveliness.
Vishal Prabhu
