The Final Act Poem by kunjubi varghese

The Final Act

Rating: 4.0


What made us to call a flower love. that withers

When it is only half unfurled?

Why did we call the breath taking magnificence

Of a rainbow, that can always melt

In the tears, a maiden?

Why do we a call a horn-bill, which is always thirsty,

The desire or passion or lust, in the human mind?

Why do we call that butterfly hoping around

Pretty flowers, an alluring dream?

Why that crystal platter that shatters, when dropped

In the earth, is called the human mind?

Why do you call an uninvited guest

Coming into our life, the destiny?

Why do we call a comedian who arrives

At the most inopportune moment into the play,

Unannounced and unexciting, DEATH?

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kunjubi varghese

kunjubi varghese

Trivandrum, Kerala, India
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