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Friday, May 21, 2010

warrior

Ever since born,
Wearing an Armour
A sword in hand,
A shield in the other,
Fighting hurdles,
Serpents disguised in saints,
No time to rest
No time to contemplate
No friends at arms length
And enemies are tired-less
Or are they all
Draped in the suits,
Lost in a mist
Fate and time are making love...
Who know who is who
"Friend or foe!"
Echo calls again and again
Conch shells blowing
Wild or civilized
Life is montage
Or a mirage
Or else a old piece of forgotten photo


Life is a joke
Looking out from
Scattered broken pieces of mirror.

3 comments:

matt at shadow of iris said...

Beautiful, really, really, beautiful.

Sayak Shome said...

The poem consistently, from the first word to the last, awed me. The last stanza was especially noteworthy. It seemed like philosophy in a child's voice; depth in content, sweetness in portrayal.

Rajat said...

the warriors are dying or will soon be dead.