no definite destination is there
not in the horizon
not in any other hole of space
rushing hurriedly yet all the nerves
your their mine whole the crowd
no one leave a foot-step to anybody
definite is only the grave
our ancestors
your grand grands
high-neck
low-collar
heels
bare feet
arrogant charisma of reining the time
no definite destination to attain
yet nerves are shivering to move at once
where to where my nymph
the child new born
the bread you ploughed in the field
the corns your blood drops
await somewhere a bit away
for a jerk
to diminish the dark forever within the dark
and light alone
just a street-beggar
waiting with coarse hand
who has entered a journey
where destination finds itself to reach him…
Pranab k c
13/02/2012
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