Pipal’s Tree

In the indian era of traditions,

Pipal’s tree has its own importance.

But I see it as Old Monk,

With vast experience and exposure.

A tower with proud, faced

Number of difficult exposure.

But remained stick to its roots,

To grow old and show it’s glory.

I accept it’s fellowship, to enlighten

My heart when stuck in past.

But I am a plant of future,

Born in chest of Pipal,

Grabbed tight it’s branches,

To experience it’s conquest. 

But in the end I grow flowers, 

Of my own type,

Of my own virtue,

Of my own ways of glory,

And Pipal has to be quiet,

Because I lead the way to future,

And I carry it’s recognition,

To next generation.

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One Last Try

My arms leaned in the deep,

Widened Shadow…

My head feels caught into

The loop of unknowns…

Raised pumping of my blood,

Into the veins of my heart,

Sign of my tiredness…

Depressed eyes of mine,

Made me away to reality…

Doors Awaits to open, but

Dead dead my efforts are dead…

my motive just lost in dark boom,

One last try, could be Filled or Emptied…¬†

But One last try……. To

Dignified my retirement 

For next survival

One last try…