Bazi alis Subrata Ray
Emptiness. By Ray Subrata - Poem by Bazi alis Subrata Ray
Occult treasure house your book,
A letter or two I read, and find,
As tidal light-year in my drought-
Dry, wretched, aloof and waif,
With imitations’ accessories I am,
A name, a body, with title,
And drooping advantage in sense,
Hope-irony, and its estrange.
All those mirages turn to oasis,
With spirit sublime and greater hope,
When I feel the ringing of your steps,
As if the awakening of my own soul,
From my paralytic oblivion.
In desire’s consumption and ambition’s profile,
The slow death God-gifted days pass and pass by,
Empty I feel with with reason-bound misery’s tie,
And cry for my own weakness, that my will can’t rise high.
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