We call that span between birth and death,
The life: rugged and mystic; pathetic
And soul stirring; bewitching as well as
Disdainful; frivolous yet ebullient.
Those conscious of the vanity of living
Are isolated and demeaned from the
Mainstream of ‘the faithful’.
Mutterings evaluated and classified
As ramblings of the abnormal intellect.
Prayers are sandwiched between
Desires, dreams, and deeds.
Prophets narrated their dreams
As a relic of their frustrations,
To a recalcitrant world, ever doubtful
About the themes and scenario of future;
And claimed divine sanctions behind it,
As revelations of what lies ahead.
Could the earth ever turn into a heaven?
Could the tiger and the lamb have
Peaceful co-existence or the wiper
Cease to be poisonous any further?
The Saints duped us with their tales
Of their trust, and faith in the Almighty.
Even God deceived us through commandments.
Many are waiting to get on to the
Bandwagon of such an apple cart.
Or is all that they said, a dream only?
What is amusing in that life, which is
Called a dream, without the illusion
And hallucination of such dreams?
The attires worn in this game,
The scenarios comprising it, and
Its enactments are delectable in ‘to-to.’
All attires are adorned by dreams
Of the soul, on our bodies…
