And Poem by chidananda sali

And...

The days are all tattered and lost in the task
Of shining the boots of the wretched world.
Forgive me and help me, o peaceful night.
Our nightly murmurs and couplings
Owe you a heavy debt of gratitude.

The great ideals are all orphaned.
Forgive me dreams, for deserting
you midstream to grab gains real.
Rolling in the dust kicked up by shoes
All strength of body is aborted mid term.

A childhood without happiness
Youth that never blossomed
And an old age sans groaning.
A noisy room, bright lights
And sharp smells...

Life gives no warning before taking a sharp turn
Mornings and ideals don't haunt without rotting.

And the hellish face of this heaven is invisible to
Those with eyes wide open. And...