Writing epitaph, back

Myself I wrote my epitaph
It was probably my first post
In that space
Where I was born,
By the river of Ganges,
Way back in the nineties,

I was too young then,
Like a child,

I was too old then
Like that old man
Who would
Go by the Ganges
Sailing his bajra,
Singing stories
Of his all encompassing love,

I died out of that,
Simply I fell
And fell
Till I was no longer a boy,
Till I knew thousands were dying like me,

And that Gothic structure at Esplanade
White marble
There I died,

After that I thought
I bloomed


Popular posts from this blog

Like sleepy , a lullaby...

The Palm Tree*

What a sunshine, what a sky,