BankHALL

The sojourn of life
Long forlorn like the playgroup kite
Flown at will to and fro in sites
Rough and stocked, yet painful spites.

Joy and mourning
Our irrevocable cross.., yet lost in this journey.
Thick, dark tunnel, Oh! that this cloud turn sunny.
That morning, when? when will you come in?

Why not as rosy as his?
Should these ills be flicks
From Mr. Destiny’s wheels?
Hmm…a bitter-sweat pill?

Deeply interested, …yet appearing bleak.
Killing, this feeling, sick!
Why these thrills?
Why these tricks?

Book? they both read.
Abilities, dexterities? they, both huge.
Yet rosy’s his and ugly his dude’s
Pre-destined for ‘fame’ and ‘doom’?

Decades after
Fate, still not differing matters,
Despite him trying harder.
What a fate? even faith left him sadder.

Inherited from nature?
Or restrained by nature?
What an emotional torture!
Leaving him no option.

These things appear trickily unfinished.
In our individual wisdom, we look just foolish
Your wisdom, too rich.
For ours to reach.

We only strive to rise
Your die is long cast
Who are we to ask?
Baba God, its your sole task.

©BankHALL™ – (December, 2011)

Source: Enigmatic Global Concept

Editor’s note: Originally published as part of the 31 Days of Poetry series on VicAdex.com on 5 July 2017.

Editor’s note: Originally published as part of the 31 Days of Poetry series on VicAdex.com on 5 July 2017.