Treasure Island

veeraiyah subbulakshmi


Once the fruits are ripen..


Living as the pair,
With borrowed air,
The uterus of mothers,
The shrines of wonders,
The warm swimming,
In the planter box,
No need to work,
All day long and,
To get tired,
The generously lend fluid,
Keeping everyone placid,
When we started to take the first breath,
With the screaming of the dearth,
Knowing of all hardship we have to go through,
In the oceans where the sharks have the teeth,
To cut us into pieces to fulfill their mirth,
When we cried aloud, others had the broad grin,
That day we realized the truth we are left alone,
to the wind to throw everywhere around,
Carrying the odor of foul and pleasant,
Falling into the valley to do the errand,
Climbing up the mountains with noisy pant,
Jumping across the oceans to find the new grass,
There is breeze, yet the storms are brewed,
Passing by the hearts, whistling with winks,
The wind of authority opens a few,
The wind of love bloom the doors as petals,
Running with desires and passion to grow and glow,
When the growth stops, the ripening starts,
The delicious fruits have to be tasted,
The waiting of hungry hosts under the soil,
We have to give up the borrowed breath,
To where it belongs for it to be free and,
no more a slave to continue to gasp.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 03, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, April 03, 2013

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