I am born as
a waif who lived in a lumber room.
No one ever
enter that damp darkness.
With great
expectation,
Like a
warrior who waits the trumpet of triumph
I wait for a
golden sunny day, and moon lit night.
I fervently
pray for the invasion of an unseen
But sober
spirit in my cave to accept the
Last rituals
each of the human being
Wish like
the drowning souls of a sinking vessel.
Life is not
an exciting ceremony.
It is a deal
we try to settle with destiny.
On this side
of the grave I swear
Even God
loves life and he too loves the
Protective ring
and scared of the chilling wind
and ash in a
grave yard.
A sense of
removal from the world
An-out-of-body
experience
Revolutionize
me.
Because even
in a death chamber
We wish the
signature of life….
Like an imbecile
or like a moron.
The mortician
even hesitates to
Go back from
the path forbidden………..!
