The Futile Passage Moans. Poem by Subrata Ray

The Futile Passage Moans.



Nothing was said,
Nothing was paid,
A hung suspends!

Nature and her minion play the trick,
And consummates each other's brick,
The walls collapse, with the flights!

For weakness, assurances were of no avails,
For betrayal, -faith could not root its tree,
For mind's bondage, -the souls could not be free.

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Subrata Ray

Subrata Ray

Formerly East Pahistan
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