Apropos 9 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

If the bright day fades to the night, if the full moon quietly decays in darkness,
If the high sea waves dissolve in coast, if the murmuring autumn forest shelves the leaves
In winter; if the festive lights go off abrupt and the smiling fairy to sorrowful tears
Or love sincere eclipses with clock bells; let them have their natural end.
Outward journeys of Earth and the roving beings like flying ashes having no meaning
Till the supreme light being enkindled on running souls or the lamp of divine solitude in nature.
Acts of man condemn to mere repeatation of his ancestors and the mimicking of situations
Unless the conscious searches find the precious stones among the thousands pebble
Or commemorate the dreams of souls noble goes dry like hays or charcoals for fire place.
Life short or long dropping from womb have the steps compulsory under the eternal arches
Of seconds, minutes and hours being conjured in a tiny clock and storing all achievements
In darkness of cloak, blocking all the passages of riming light of gold dispatching continuous
By the eternal despatcher; missives celestial fall flat on deaf ears and eyes closed forever
Like the owl in sunlight; In other earth, the sea is in entirety and millions wave of struggling days
Keep the most at bay for perpetual fear of tempest in voyages; few, the chosen hearts
With unmitigated quest for unknown brave the uncertain mysteries of universe
And rest with begging bowels with generations patience and greed staring the endless expanse
In hope of enjoying upon the wealth if be retrieved from the sea by the seafarers rummaged on boats returning,
As if some wolves feasting a hapless dear with faces red and the joyous dancing upon the shore for satiety satisfied
Or in worship of a spire or curved stone that never sparks; our eternal struggle since the maiden cry upon
The stretched hands of nurses to expanse by rubbing our wits against the rocky congestion
Of bluntness, paving the virtual way for posterity towards the eternal lamp of knowledge supreme.
Those with dangling keys of chests to be opened summarily for staging wealth pawn the conscience all
Grow in one pattern, another with conscience unopened in meek servitude, few with voices
Vociferous and morally hard; these forming cluster of roaming clouds around the civil sky,
Some drizzle and fertile the land and mostly melt with summer sun with faint wails.
The spires or stones whom they worshipped hardly come to aid in distress, hopeless lots beating the worthless empty chests
Are all in eager wait for those boats returning and for returnees to ask eagerly what touchstones
Have brought by them to be plundered and for pilferage knowing not the colour of wealth.
But these very voyagers being unmindful to losses and gains, drawing forever the new horizon
Within foreseeable limit with selfless commitment to demonstrate what man can, concerning not what be can not.