And He Built A Graveyard Poem by SATANICK MUKHUTY

That day his very spirit was beckoned,
Rose on his feet he, a hammer in hand,
The universe that inspired so much awe,
Frowned at him on his face, challenged him now.
So infinity it was he longed to conquer.
Yea! Yea! Infinity- The infinite! !

Yes Infinity, so what?
Lessened was not an iota of determination,
The task was,
If not less then equal to his resolve,
But surely never could it be more!

Born to triumph who,
Could defeat be his destiny?

Began thus, a revolution radical!
A creation of new in what was old.
An endeavor to tame the forces gigantic,
To enslave the creator in his very creation,
This was his aim.
Not less it could be, nor more.

Had he not to attain the crescendo?
Had he not to conquer the zeniths?
If to repudiate the natural order is all it takes
Then be it so.

Victory walked in, thus,
Now and then, Successively,
Still all was but an infinitesimal
And the aspiration was infinity!

Soon became he oblivious of it,
For blinded was he by an ambition utopian! !

Now every wall that he built,
With every ounce of mortar and brick,
His mind got filled with so many cankers.
In Narrow walls, dark caves and clumsy crevices
Choked silently his world, He never knew.
Then stumbled his progress, he never noticed,
Then died he many deaths, yet he cared not.

Beguiled he was by an abysmal ignorance!

Came then a shock,
It struck him like a thunder...

The palaces, the forts and the kingdoms he built,
To enshrine his tiny little wins,
Looked all now like a graveyard…

And there he stood,
Besieged by an abominable lull.
Staring dismayed at his own deed.

Could he die now?
He surely would,
But only if he could…

Mere death was no solace.
The grave was no peace…