Little Master Corona

O thou little master,
The world was a bit faster,
You now force brakes,
Lions turn into drakes,
Even newspaper is scary,
No longer a news carrying fairy,
It comes from Delhi,
Fear pinches my guts and belly,
With inhibitions I touch,
A fearful world is such!

The Story of a frost-beaten tree

The winter has'n brutal and harsh,
And my struggle turned almost a farce,
Lost all my leaves,
With loss my soul grieves,
Still not all is lost,
For greenish life finds a host
in the wheat at my feet,
They pay a respectable greet,
My loss and my pain
doesn't go in vain,
Tumbled down as my leaf
with pain and grief,
Blossom thousands around,
Wheatlings like daughters doth surround,
Fell where my tear,
Many a smile this earth doth bear,
Doesn't go waste my pain,
Sows it the prospects of gain,
If not for me,
Definitely for thee!

The Light

The light does hark,
beyond the deepest dark,
There is a day bright,
after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,
After a barren famished fight,
there blossoms a springed delight,
After pining pangs of seperation,
there is a worthy end to the desperation,
After crashing in the gutters,
there is a surge and rise to bathe in holy waters,
After crying convulsions on the lips,
a smile takes honeyed sips,
After the last deafeat,
still there is an undying urge to accomplish the feat,
Even when blind with despair,
there is hope hiding and cajoling somewhere,
Even in hate, love still lurks somewhere!

Lost

It has been months since
I last lit my faith's lamp,
So many days have passed since
prayers chimed in my dark den's air damp,
My meditating self,
Now gives atheistic yelp.
Lost my faith!
Lost my prayer!
Lost my rituals!
Lost my meditative trance!

The story told by the soul to its own corpse

Once I flew and frolicked high,
Now the flesh and blood gone dry,
The real me withdrew with a painful sigh,
They say, 'I was destined to die,'
It's but the biggest lie!