By Ayush Nishad
Hey liberty, how are you?
Will you come in today?
Or willing to see me tomorrow,
Or you’re going to leave me reckless.
Down the darkness upholds mystery.
The gentle it goes,
That hurts the most.
At least tell me what to do.
I ween the scope is big.
Perilous the valley is,
Hoping to keep my print first,
Which would be astonishing then.
The trivial autonomy here is
Of thoughts and action.
My greatest wish is to pursue them,
But here I come again, abandoning myself breathlessly.
Tell the latter watchword:
Battered and bruised,
Pace of Individualism.
Worthless hyenas ambush in the wilderness.
As long as I’m young and profuse,
Would be inquisitive in wisdom and growth,
Longing isn’t my fault, dependent on what’s bestowed-
How vulnerable, unmeasurable it was.
Quite fatigued of this smoke,
Yearning to emerge from the concealed body,
Suffocated, agonised, and perished - was I?
Such is the irony I carry.
Centuries went by, and more to occur.
Still no freer to the living; Questioned the purpose of being in existence.
Forget about the non lives.
Resilience has built over time.
In such a world, fool was I
Was I looking for a meaningless life-not worth living?
Fought, cried, confronted-and was defeated a zillion times
Yet only despair came to this dynamic life.
The art inward kept me combating for my oomph.
In a lifespan, a reservoir full of ecstasy is beyond my grasp- what a satire
Here I’m Aspiring to Liberation to be blissful:
Esoterically, for the Rest of my life, Lifelike, LifeLine, and what awaits- Lifelong.