Life is like a doleful road
Starting from cradle, ending in grave,
In it I am a laconical traveller,
Walking blindly, uncertain and naive.
I don't know the language of follies and sins
Engraved in the epitaph of molested love;
I speak of fools and I speak of kings
In the earth below and the heaven above.
History whispers in my ears
Tales untold and stories unheard,
Of anonymous poets of unknown birth,
And sojourning vagabonds who aimlessly rove
For country liquor and sunburnt mirth.
They speak of religion and blasphemic love
In a sultry town draped in yore;
They speak of brothels, they speak of temples
And virgin maidens and forbidden doors.
And then one day, they all disappear,
In the distant horizon where life meets death,
And time snatches away one's last breath,
Where hope is a flickering shade of resilience,
And finally sunders into eerie fumes of silence;
Shattered is the facade of affable pretence
When reality dawns upon the dwindling oblivion,
And for the first time I hear my conscience speak
These claustrophobic words of eternal truth :
" Life is a euphemism for love and care,
There are fragments of hope in an ocean of despair,
We often ignore them in our fortune seeking dance,
And finally succumb to a materialistic trance..."
5 years ago