Without a loin to cover him up,
Just a stick to help,
Inhaling with utmost intent
The smoke of his God.
Days has he given up
The love for his life,
Sleeping on the ashes
His stick very close by.
Nobody turning towards him
Even to bother,
The smokey view manifests
The time for him to shudder.
The time for him to journey
Through the lands under spell,
Like a drowning pearl
In this world so knave.
Unfazed by soceity,
Like a firefly in the night sky,
Using its own faint light
To fly the shadowy 'Tundra'.
People take a dip
In the water so holy,
For him just a gaeity
Caressed by the chill.
Never feeling the raindrops
He so wishfully numb,
Not having to feel the incineration of hunger,
Not having to constrain his senses!
Like a sedentary cocoon,
Metamorphosed from a catterpillar,
Never wanting to remember those days
When soceity never conferred him a comforting healer.
The 'Rudraksha' reminded him
Of those who were so near.
Not having to leave them
But left in the hands of Death!
His life, a mere coral
In the deep blue ocean,
With the rays of the sun
Flickering with the brightest grace!
---- There's a long story associated with this... He haunted me everywhere, in dreams in real life, everywhere...
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