Life = Death - Volume 7 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

42. ENTIRELY ON THEIR OWN 

Reason to fear was with those who had resplendently sparkling sight; as even the tiniest thought of a blur obfuscating their eyes; made them uncontrollably tremble towards the aisles of nothingness,

While the ones blind since the very first cry of birth; surged intrepidly forward with nothing to lose; as the only Sun for them was an island of wholesomely penalizing blackness.

Reason to fear was with those who had fathomless treasuries of gold and compassionate belonging; as even the tiniest thought of misery coming their

way; made them frantically chew the last chunk of their skins,

While the ones brutally orphaned and penniless since the very first cry of

birth; merrily gallivanted forward with nothing to lose; as the most majestic cheer for them; was their soul of despicably wavering loneliness.

Reason to fear was with those who had perennially floated in opulent wines

and tantalizing food; as even the tiniest thought of prosperity deserting them; made them sweat like a coward with nothing to lose; as their most charismatically sensuous expression was a despondent dungeon of remorsefully lambasting silence.

Reason to fear was with those who had enchantingly vibrant ears; as even the tiniest thought of voices abandoning them; made them insanely wander through clouds of frazzled emptiness,

While the ones perpetually deaf since the very first cry of birth; harmoniously surged forward with nothing to lose; as their most poignantly volatile inspiration to exist was a graveyard of pin drop solitude.

Reason to fear was with those who were unconquerable kings; as even the tiniest thought of the diamonds popping out from their pompous crowns; made them inexplicably beat their fists towards the corridors of diabolical hell,

While the ones opprobriously squelched like rotten tomatoes since the very

first cry of their birth; exuberantly surged forward with nothing to lose; as their most pristine moments in life were nothing but a gutter of unsurpassable filth.

Reason to fear was with those who incessantly tantalized themselves with the

feathers of enchanting desire; as even the tiniest thought of all nubile fantasy abnegating them; made them maniacally bleed in threadbare dust,

While the ones bizarrely lynched since the very first cry of birth; blisteringly flew forward with nothing to lose; as their most gloriously fecund prowess was to procreate none like their own.

And reason to fear was with those who passionately palpitated into fireballs  of togetherness every instant; as even the tiniest thought of their beloved betraying them; made them desperately rip apart their veins into an infinite ungainly bits,

While the ones disparagingly bereft of love since the very first cry of birth; phlegmatically ticktocked forward with nothing to lose; as the most marvelously cherished aspect of their survival; was to be left entirely on their own.