Found My Own Corpse Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Above the soil the cars appeared to be like royal emperors; traversing majestically on the silken coat of long road,
While beneath the soil the same cars seemed to be squalidly coated with mud; painstakingly labored to trudge merrily forward.

Above the soil the matchsticks appeared to be burning in passionate fire; profoundly illuminating the darkness of the wretched night,
While beneath the soil the same matchsticks seemed to be gasping for breath; relinquishing their boisterous flames in wholesome entirety.

Above the soil the conglomerate of clouds appeared to be a silken carpet; inundating barren kilometers of mud on earth with robust sheets of sparkling water,
While beneath the soil the same clouds seemed to be dingy little bellows of obnoxious gas; brutally entrapped and blended with dark chunks of purple earth.

Above the soil the crops in the farm appeared to be salubrious and ingratiatingly fresh; swaying delectably with every draught of amicable wind,
While beneath the soil the same crops seemed to be completely corroded; squelched to barbaric roots hanging flimsily under the ground.

Above the soil the bucket of milk appeared frosty and supremely scintillating; inevitably enticing cats from the midst of their celestial sleep to gather around
in unison and sip,
While beneath the soil the same milk seemed horrendously dirty; perseveringly inching its way downwards towards the deep belly.

Above the soil the eggs hatched into scores of immaculate fledglings; harmoniously puncturing the atmosphere with their lovely rambunctious sounds and noises,
While beneath the soil the same eggs got overwhelmingly burdened with bulky mud; strangulated miserably to even spread their legs.

Above the soil the cluster of hideous snakes enjoyed unparalleled privilege in hunting for their succulent prey; easily sighting it in austerely brilliant rays of Sunlight,
While beneath the soil the same snakes slithered in gloomy mysticism; having only to content with dead worms and a festoon of inconspicuous bodied ant.

Above the soil the pages of the book seemed a treat to read and intricately decipher; with the battalion of words prudently embossed inside capturing the true essence of life under silvery rays of moonlight,
While beneath the soil the same book became simply inaudible to read; and the termites attacked it pathetically from all sides of its hard bound periphery.

Above the soil the fleet of butterflies danced and frolicked euphorically generating ebullient draughts of fresh air; hardly sat for a minute besieged by the ardor of their activity,
While beneath the soil the same butterflies lost their petite wings; had monstrous difficulty to even open their eyes.

And above the soil I lived in blissful tandem with the Universe; wandering and exploring; conquering and relishing; romancing and procreating,
While beneath the soil the same me; found my place to rest for centuries unprecedented; as a matter of fact; found my own corpse.