Ashik Khan, -The Passage Of Love, -Dedicated To Ashik Kahan Poem by Subrata Ray

In a stormy thunderous evening,
When heavy rains was wildly feasting,
A young man with a car visited my school,
And seeing -me sitting alone in my office chair,
He wished to pick me up for his love's share,
Amidst his riches and aristocracy he was humble,
Polite, fresh and thoughtful in every word,
And in brief conversation I could read his vibrant heart.

Life, -he thinks, means Charing and caring,
Money to him is a healing balm to fellow comrades,
Religion, he feels is the service to all,
And philosophy if any is conscience's transparent call.

Always and ever he keeps his mind bare,
With conscious vigilance the Ego's trespass he cares,
And wishes to submit himself for the betterment of all,
The treasure I bore home was is Immortal Love's call.