So I’m staying up late night
Battling with my thoughts, whether right or wrong
This brain and heart never coincide
Wicked, moony tissues, won’t allow me to be strong
Now it’s getting harder to decide my next move
Goals and pending promises, somehow I got to prove
Tired of all expectations, time to blow off the trend
But I’m not sure where to start form
It’s a rocky path ahead, & what if there’s a dead end!
Again I try to abate this cynical virus
Just leaving everything on fate
And I won’t shake the faith, even if God
Puts my call on wait
I won’t ask for any wealth, but grant me wisdom
Show me thy light and guide me to your kingdom
Keep me in your heart, there’s no greater mansion
As you bless me father, I know I’d live with distinction
And all my confusions are now expiring
A sensible brain & a happy heart unifying
With a sigh of relief and closed eyes I thank thee
Snoring out doom, floating in the sky
I’m singing a symphony
I like the words you have attached to certain objects: a virus can definitely be called "cynical"; "all" your "confusions...expiring" is a powerful assertion; and bodily matter perceivable as "wicked"ly "moony" sounds very intriguing. I guess this poem by you is meant to be appreciated for your wordplay and proficiency in labeling situations. But why would somebody want to get rid of "doom" by nasally ejecting it, putting others at risk? Thus, nice of you to have the narrator alert others against this contagious fate by exhaling noisily! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Nirbhay. It was written when I felt that going to a peaceful sleep is the best possible way to switch off from the world. The word SNORE here exactly describes my "No Worries" expression :)
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