Bolt From Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

From bolts

Words deliver
And I offer
My sincere
Admiration

If words are intentional
That shall affect individual
But if they are spoken for no one
They become divine

The mask is needed for those
Who suppose
And live in fool's paradise
With no choice

The great soul shall depart
With no tail of an art
Unsung and unheard
And be buried with his words

What has he gained?
That is remained to be seen
When thousands pay homage and shed tears
Believe it is no fake existence

He died for simple smile
And turned on style
With no hope of receiving ugly jolt
Sometimes it happens as blue from bolts