There’s an amplitude of beauty with death too...
Just like,
Saypatri is garlanded after being plucked.
Rhododendrons are entangled on the head.
Just as,
Roses after plucked are paused in hands.
Like stones condenses -
After crores of penetrating into inscription,
After lakhs of pecks into stone.
After thousands of strokes
Into supernatural stone.
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Ways are made
After outrageous tread by the sole,
Mona Lisa gets ready
When colors transforms into skeleton
In the canvas.
Great walls are made
When sweats are rolled from foreheads.
When winds mishaps in flowers,
Fragrances are prepared.
When clouds gets tired of walking,
They forms rain.
When nights are dead,
It becomes the dawn.
Just like,
Rivers are formed after the ice dissolves
From the Himalayas.
Fertile ways are made
After the outrageous rule of cliff’s are drowned.
Like,
Khukuris are prepared after
Centuries of spanking steel.
There’s amplitude of beauty
With death too.
Just like,
One father gets sick after bearing cereals in bunches,
One mother gets sick
After giving birth to a new era.
Just like,
After shaking the rim of the foundation of consciousness,
Ugly contours of histories crumble.
