Bazi alis Subrata Ray
The Gay Gray Of Life.
The spring –well of unremembered joy,
Rises on surface to display,
The eternal abstract from this time-being clay.
Antic, humor, wit, and feeling,
Chuckle the molds of thought-packed faces,
Somewhere! Oh nowhere tides the graces.
Multitudinous images sail from notes of colossal lyre,
Germinate they from watery-vase,
And after being fueled by nature, drop the fire.
Come and go, enemy and foe, through the waves of mind,
Memory collects, from the begging wallet,
Pleasurable pathos, and cloudy winds.
Oh! No purpose was planted, no mission had a gain,
The journey ends through drought and rains.
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