I wish a happy new year to all my readers. This is written more to see the last year off than to welcome the next. I wonder what else is going to change except the last digit of the year from 5 to 6.
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Dedicated to Kunal Thakore,
for his inspirations and poetry
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Is it another year
or the old calendar
or another assortment of faces,
piercing through the shield of my heart
that made me fall upon
the thorns of life and bleed?
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Did it have just twelve months or a few more?
Never bled so much in my life, before!
Never thought an old man like me
could harbor so much blood inside!
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Twelve months back it began
with a sour string that stung like a curved hook,
as I tried to swim across the ocean
of existence, in wild tumult!
But the shore that I saw
was but a mirage, a false hope!   Â
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So the land vanished and the string
tore apart my flesh, blood and skin!
I was seething with a rage that almost
made me lose my life too!
Still I rose and stood up
on my broken feet and bones,
spread my broken wings to embrace
the looming second half!
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When it came, it turned out to be
no less cruel than the first,
too shallow and selfish,
too engrossed in its looks and whims!
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Thus the year traversed until the last month,
when Polaris began
shining bright on the sky,
letting me steer my way back home,
yet still I bleed, not from the pain
but for being what I am!
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So I embrace myself and urge the year to come,
for that is our lot for sure, we poets have to burn!
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