The Dejection. Poem by Subrata Ray

The Dejection.
He wished to be a causeless Fool,
And only the Mandate of the Unconscious,
An aloof-ed Lone without spoiled touch.
The sway of the Thought -Cancer,
And the missiles by fermented orators,
Sprout yellow heads amidst his lease.
Two breads and a loincloth,
Upon the sky-touched grass,
By the glade-glided -spring,
Are enough for a simple living.
No sermon-coated packed falsehood,
No status and station of Ego; s proud,
But a mind jocund in willow-woods,
And peace-sustaining air as life's food.