Nameless Poet Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

I am the muse of this Barren Forest,
I am the voice of its spirit, solitary Bard!
I see its past, present and future;
I carry the name beyond, till eternity.

Meeting the globe and stars,
Even the days when the days were worst,
Past drew on thee my dearest regard,
In the voyage and pen the course of history.

For I felt wondrously musing,
Of glory, grace and forlorn antiquity;
Scenes, making and un-making suffusing;
Who am I? Where am I? I muttered.

My mother, sister and beloved never,
Seem to miss much either.
Used to my bizarre writings,
Still my grave waits a rose, never to drop.

I see myself in some nameless grave,
The epitaph faded and invisible.
And in non-descript lingo,
Is written about the bard died, Ages ago.

Here lies one who penned man and God,
Waste not your tears on him, he was a rock;
Writing fierce things for his pleasure,
Thank the God, he is no more, this son of fire.