Dying Hope Poem by Sandeep Mandal

This verse may or may not ever be uttered
Drifting in the ebb and flow
Know not which shore it reaches, ever be it so
Or goes on whirling and twirling in the primordial dance
Of clustered stones
To be devoured by nothingness.
Then of what use all these labours?
If not a single person savours.
Are they exerted only to entertain?
There's nothing else to gain?
'Don't fret', said my Muse and confuse
Labours of drudgery with labours of joy.
Versification never goes in vain
Silently it anchors you in the ever changing ploy.