He stands there
in the street light.
By the dark and cold night!
Clad in rags,
he sees himself.
Overpowered and conquered by poverty.
He stands a mannequin of helplessness
and asks for love and sympathy!

He looks into his sack,
then takes out a bag.
Stones & scribbles!
That’s all what he has.
A thoughtful mind.
A carefree smile.
He opens a book in his style.
Hands held high,
he takes off a sigh.
And then jumps into its depth
within a dive.

The words are dark,concrete and bizarre.
For he only knew the letters so far.

B & T , he searches that out.
All of a sudden, he coughs out loud.
His soul cries blood in the phlegm that he sprouts.
He bears the pain across his chest,
to focus on the letters forgetting the rest.
For he only knew the words could cure his pain,
when he heard of people saying TB would bereave him in vain.

He is confused,
aghast and in muse.
Tired of searching for life in words,
for the words are as mightier as swords.
He gives up & cries!
Tears roll down his eyes
where the drops behold the ocean of fear of demise.

He looks up in the sky,
countless stars and moon so high!
He remembers his god,
for his fate,
for his poverty and lifelong regret.

He knew of cosmos.
He knew of stars.
He knew of ideas that made a way to Mars.
He could feel the souls,
he could lead their roles.
But he always hold the regret of lacking the words.

His heart fell heavy on seeing the kids,
who were destined for better life than his.
A happy home and good health
with the best education anyone could get.
On seeing the kid to school , nagging on his way
begging for his parents to let him go away.
He thought ” Had once he been forced,
he would have conquered the world.”

But he was poor.
And the world was cruel,
as it lacked the compassion that he hold.
A beautiful mind lagged behind
for the mankind lost the treasures that he would find.
He led a nomadic life,
where he head to thrive,
to find out how poverty let him strive,
in between the ignorance and ailments
that made his way hard to drive.

He was just a symbolism of what
number of unfortunate souls lack,
the privilege of both health and education,
the essentials of any affluent nation.

Dark nights will pass,
coldness may never last.
A soul like him can never fall so fast.
At the end, he deserves to win.
For a fighter like him, survives till the end.

Advertisements