Atul Rajesh Sharma

Many precious tyrants sacrificed!
Fire gets today their brunt!
They were either burned to none or iced!
For them ever God did hunt.
...

You are the tune; make me your hopeful harp
That I may be adorned by your grand touch.

You need some rest; let once my filthy bed
...

Amid the drifting sands of the desert,
I hear the music of an airy life:
The plaintive humming of a thousand bees,
Who—choked and swollen with their orange sweet—
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My Lord has made me think beyond all ends!
The journey is precise, yet I'm adrift,
Since all my greater happiness depends
On His immortal tune, not on life's gift,
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I drone away my lonesome days
In my dull, noisy class;
I may be in a brighter phase,
Still more I can amass.
...

Till all the stars burn out and I remain—
Rolling over the mountain—darkness' bane,
It will live in me, my friend Solitude,
As if my life did nothing but delude
...

O bloom of life, that lies and grows
In undergrowth of heavens high,
Be not so sad to fight with foes
And with your grandeur fill the sky.
...

The night is soaring on the lordly sky;
Be there no fear for either low or high:
For Banyan ours is ready to defend,
Be it a fiend or some demanding friend.
...

The call comes out from all the past
And bids me run to 't fast,
But only when my pleasure fills
With blends of daffodils;
...

See there, the bride sits with so steady face,
And all th' palanquin bearers are her kin
Who carry her to all a brighter race.
...

A gleam of faith, through an open door,
Shines out the darkness of
Every great gloom that stands before
Your path blocking all love.
...