In a garb not your own
Days behind the bars,
a caged bird with wings cross,
not guilt in you bugging stride
for culprit outside loitering with pride;
for how long and why so long,
every moment in you queries prolong,
family of stones and visiting birds,
outside world is full of noisy rides.
No proper definition for Karma,
No acute definition for Dharma,
Only in a mood to blame Brahma,
Unending garb worn for this Dharma.
Thronged by many going and coming
Their own attributes, reasons of seeing,
The Earth still rotates still on its axis,
A witness to all these trauma of crisis.
Me counting my days of release,
for this vehicle of run and stop with grease,
not sufficient to propel further
for a journey replete with heather.
Look up! for Almighty is up,
and watching you down with grip,
will never forsake us the honest,
dictum sure for ever and near earnest.
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