The Ever Living Human Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

Quill and pigments, Pen and Ink
Sharp nails and dried leaves,
Dark chillness and hot wind,
Thousands of pages sustain,

Time tested newly born readers,
Blow the young breeze in their hearts,
Extracting flowing tears from their wells,
The river of metaphors still flow,

In each and every individuals,
Who call themselves as the writers and the fans,
Thousands of years have to arrive,
To celebrate the preserved materials,

From the past, what a great thinkers they are,
Staying in the hearts of many generations,
The wealth didn’t make it viable,
To last for millennium in the minds,

The literature of all languages,
Still young to adore the youngsters,
With well debated thoughts and procedures,
Those are contemporary, never crown oldness.

Many have lived, never grown tired.
Many have reigned, never lost the grip.