Alone, in this dreadful voyage of life
Reaping immortal fruits of pain and strife
In the mystical soggy nights, from time to time
Swept with confused struggle and flight,
Where innocent soul dies every night
Do you think the story of my life is right?
Alas! My life, rugged and uneven,
As is the smile upon my countenance
That has no slight or trivial influence
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
With lofty outlooks, that burns like the fire
And leaves footprint on the sands of time
My dreams, an edifice, too large to fill
Alpha and Omega of all things
And so endless is the memory I retain,
Of infinite sorrow and eternal drain
Covering the Earth with hate and pain
Praising the strong but pulverizing the lean
My life, a prison within prison, shut up
from outside light, inseparably dark
Or false glitter, that so suddenly blazes,
And conduits the dark abyss of my soul, but
Towards the mouth of infernal hell
For me, life is only an illusionary peregrination
And an eternal odyssey in this microcosm,
That immolates our soul to reach its destination
Life, an insatiable traitor, slaughters its own creator
As if its resolution is to bring sinister
My life, a mere abstruse, showy but of little value;
So called emblem of challenge, is supple
Like the subterranean passage, dead leaf fell,
There did it rest, the way to my dusty death.


Copyright 2003 Bhuwan Thapaliya