Unchanged Poem by Samya Bose

It is not a tale,
It isn't a fable;
But an existence,
Mingled with essence;
Worthy to me
And may be to you;
But to the rest,
A little of no value.

Rivers flow
And the valleys glow,
The sound of rain
That snatches all the pain.
Flowers when smile,
Send the infirm into exile;
Gloom is fine
When stars shine.

Lad with a glance
Is craving a chance,
Maid with a smile
Gives assent in a while.
Amorous embrace
With a divine grace,
An eternal view,
But is always new.

Shine of a sickle,
Speaks very little;
Unspoken dimness
Is in search of firmness.
Wheels roar
And wealth comes more,
Withered faces,
Lagging in races.

Rulers claim
Their triumph in the game;
Tend to keep down
With a vanity crown;
They hope they will stay
Forever, in this way;
But they are very feeble
Like momentary bubble.

People act strange
As they see them change;
They never change
Though dynasties change.
My blessed solitude
Then tell as they would
Be pebbles in presence
But gems in absence.