Palas Kumar Ray
Whom do I live here for?
Do I really live for me?
I am often very confused.
Somehow I am in a notion
My elastic life elongates
to keep there alive
a promising buyer
live here at any cost
til he has not bought enough.
Every life is very precious here
but not in the same sense.
my life and yours
are the lives of valuable consumers.
Your life and my life
are lives of great concern to them.
we live to earn
but to them
we live only to spend, I assume.
This life is like a funny trap here
When we believe
we are consuming
actually we are
being stupidly consumed.
Say me not
what we have gained more
than what we have lost here.
Here on earth we are
actually worth of our great ability
to hate our own selves
for our inability to buy more and more.
© Palas Kumar Ray.All rights reserved.
Topic of this poem: believe
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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