International Poet

  The Flute   The flute is no ordinary form, It is a thirsty longing. Tearing through the chest of emptiness, It awakens as a melody. To blow into it is the liberation of the soul, An awakening to an immortal call. Why then does man stand still? Because in the flute’s melody, he finds his lost self. In the forest of silence, he faces a fragment of truth. When the flute speaks in festivities, It is actually singing the song of the soil. We are all travelers of that melody. In the procession of coming and going, The flute’s tune is the only eternal vibration. Our existence, too, is but a flute. As long as the breath flows, The resonance of the melody lingers; When the tune ends, all is finished— A silent grave in the heart of eternity.   About the Author:   *Mahfuzur Rahman Sourav is a poet of the "Zero Decade" (Shunno Doshok). He is also recognized as a critic, essayist, short story writer, and lyricist. He was born on May 5, 1977, in the village of Rarhi Kandi, Matl...