His Wish Poem by Asit Kumar Sanyal
His Wish
I am the soft clay
On potter's wheel
The wheel rotating
His hands giving shape
I don't know
What I will be
I may become a tea cup,
A little lamp for worshiping
A wine pot to hold cocktail
Or a vase in a brothel
And after service
I will go to garbage
Being the shard
I have no wish, no force,
No role in decision
It is his wish
What he will make me.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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5/4/2024 3:37:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
