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I remember my last night on bed
was cross legged
joined my palms
thanked Almighty GOD
for this life
took a deep breath & slept

it's winter this cold night
trapped in a nightmare?
i'm a beggar? who am i?
why? i don't know?
no race? any religion?
no place to live

why should i yodel?
this noise in me has too slept
in silence
but i'm asleep in this darkness
lying on the curb-side
under a naked tree
a flashing streetlamp
in my two eyeballs
gazing the four wheelers
people passing by
who don't seek my senses
floating-fog has thickened
no matter as i wave hands

in this jungle
skin freezing
blood, cemented lanes
rough iced-stones
sting scorpion
beard & hair-furs
grown like turf
along with the dust & dirt
too the nails
it has been yonks
i smelt the soap stone
before i bathed
worse than frosty-beast
feverish coughing, sneezing
barefoot, bare
tattered trousers couldn't save me
steadily rubbing palms
starving, thirsty
not eaten for a week
these weeks, months & years
are eating me up
they yearn me
no food i didn't find
but there's a brook of drained water
just a few steps away
which is my nectar to survive

i think further that,
my whole world is wrapped
in a few miles
night-like day begins like a war,
in which i'm already dead
& why?
i awaken sometimes,
to jingle of bells
with my kith & kin
a few stray dogs & orphans
in a corner outside a temple
begging for a few coins
that people used to toss it towards us
snatch from burning ground
for smile a while
my hands are pressed-up like a paper
a thousand times that wont heal
from dark dawn to dark dusk
it doesn't really feel
i let them bleed

just because?
i know there would be no one
to mourn my death
neither these dogs nor orphans
nor some of like me
with whom i share a piece of land
& food
no one would call me from my back
will know of my death
like me many

a thousand philosophers,
live to give love philosophies?
poets drowned in free verse
about me, my life
my tears
why try inspire kings & wretches?
who don't understand,
how to love?

although we are
favorite toys to play with
we are toy-born,
over this land of mud & clay
so, with this time & tide
before i pass away
by my own hands,
i wanted to write my own elegy.

Submitted: Monday, October 07, 2013
Edited: Monday, October 07, 2013

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