By Ayushi Vats:
Somebody from the days of yore
Cries my name out. I hear it faintly.
Somebody from that dungeon pleads
Must I come and rescue him.
I step ahead, eschewing my votary
I walk ahead, on that boulevard that projects solely my shadow.
The next sojourn is a lush green floor with lea spread wide.
I resign to the narcoleptic air, thoughtless, tranquil and let the pregnant pause hail.
I let no quagmire survive. As I settle down.
I look up right in the boisterous sky. That has been there since ere and ages.
I think as I breathe. I think of moments I have lived.
I think of moments I wanted to live. And those that I never wanted to.
I want to venture into anonymity and not be deciphered.
I want to be showered with solitude and ignorance.
I realize of the sins I committed and also the eternal verities that I regarded
I wish for the rains to arrive now, the rains of honor that would wash me to purity.
I want to be taken off the walls that extol about mighty rivalries and victorious cavalries.
Award me an eternal exile. Away from the earthly possessions and other realms.
Let my requiem be the most harmonious melody.
Let the procession be the most united of all.
Let atleast, my buried figure achieve utopia.
Soothe the bruises of yester days.
This will be the mirth I seek. An idyll.