Biken K Dawadi

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Published On: February 18, 2020 01:25 PM NPT By: Biken K Dawadi

Lore

Lore

 

Draped in confusion, full of vain,
I climbed atop the steaming train,
Catching speed, whizzing fast,
I presumed I would assume the apex at last.

All that while, seeking power and pelf,
Deeper where suffocation wells,
I pulled my self out of myself,
And descended into someone else.

And when the train hit strong the peak,
Oh how fragile! Oh how so weak!
Strength in me boiled weaker still,
and forgot the facade of my true will.

Every aspect of the peak I scoured,
Anger, regrets, disappointment poured,
And from the midst of that liquid emotion
I chanced upon a supple elixir.

How to use the seed unknown,
I decided that it must be sown,
Sow I did, through years, watered more
Till by the peak, a gorgeous tree it bore.

How lush the leaves! How chiseled the bough!
The parfum lovely from flowers raw,
From the thin trunk grew wild the roots,
How reddish, how splendid were the fruits.

I plucked a fruit took a deep bite,
My brown skin tone turned pale and white,
In angst I screamed sobbed and cried,
In the sweet pain, I withered and died.

Now, by the peak, solemnly I pry,
Yet no one climbs the train and try
Abandoned I feel now, lost at most,
But you are more,
You tuned to a lore,
Of a ghost.

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