Revival

Revival

The Day begins with a throbbing pain in his heart,
last night his better half had run out of the wind
to breathe and sustain the blossoming of his love.
His first few steps are sluggish, hazy and confused,
like a thick foggy morning in late December
and he knows, the sun had set on him forever!

   

Brief autumn was the months of joyful completion,
it came and lingered for a while or two before
fading to the mossy annals of oblivion,
buried alive with no traces left above the ground!

   

Then the sudden onslaught of winter shocked the world,
each day became all frozen to its tender core,
the humble pen stopped bleeding and the blood ceased to flow,
that etched teary sadness and laughter on an empty page.

   

After many a month of such desolate emptiness,
another mighty blizzard came, howling wind blowing hard
but this time though the Day would lose his better half, his blood
would thaw and melt to flow and etch his tears and dreams again!

Contrapositions

Contrapositions

So is a forlorn heart less blue
just because its bearer’s passport is colored green
or human blood less crimson too,
as per different weathered pigments on their skin?
  

Why should I be more favored by the God,
just because my father was circumcised
or less because my mother had to put
a pinch of rogue vermilion on her head?
   

Does a herd abandoned deer shiver less
just because its in the warm Savannah
and does a trampled soul find the numbers safe
in the cruel stampede of a fleeting crowd? 

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The Marching Lambs

The Marching Lambs

As lambs we are marching towards the slaughterhouse,
through blood and gore, forests, rocks and vast deserts’ sands,
since the dawn of man to satisfy lust and greed
whose cloak has always been woven with threads of want
or need. In the beginning, it was with bare hands,
then with wood and stone but since the time of bronze came
the sheer scale has been rising up in leaps and bounds
until the Little Boy gave us nuclear liberty.
(We must leave due blood and fame for the Fat Man too!)
Still our march towards the slaughterhouse never stops,
for the men in power need these wars to remain,
should God need the strength of men to defend His name!
So we march ahead and the crimson river too;
give birth to saints women, not generals, will you!

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A Rebel’s Prayer

A Rebel’s Prayer

With revolution inside I was born,
in my blood, throbbing heart and mind the spark
was pumped, flowed and burst in a combustion
molding me as a rebel at my birth!
  

I never learned a thing from social norms,
nor from any double faced daughters or sons
of Eve and Adam, neither from any
hollow dogmas doctored from history!
   

In the end I have found two principles that hold
all that are there to be known, do unto others
what you want others to do unto you and God
is in you and me waiting to be discovered!
    

I have liberated myself from the sensual realm
to be one with my Creator, the One and Supreme! 

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