Inner Realm
– No death no escape-
The dew-fed days and wild imitation of crystal blindness,
The indifferent morning and the Virgin smell of fragrant flowers and brisk afternoon,
The Sun from slanting clouds winked with manifold dreams,
The walking was full of promises,
The forlorn field with wild burgeon
With lifting wind often and on,
The calm winter and pensive spring,
The thunderstorms with black cloud in monsoon,
The night, calm and quiet with dim light,
Often with severe blows of storms and blusterous air,
destroyed the affluence of daylong toil.
The humming bees and Mellow fume of melting mud,
The lightning stroke in each drop of blood with thoughtless aura of nonentity,
The joy of living without past and future.
The birds with twittering orchestra and beasts with silent sweetness,
The air and water with motile sound of fast growing trees,
Life was no less than a dream.
In this dead world among dead people and with dying mind life is no less than agony where death delays to fall upon the chest.
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