From Existing To Living Poem by Rounaq Dhar

A fire through the ages, burning bright,
Nary a dilemma, not a care,
Searing those who came too close,
To others, heavenly respite.


I speak not, just, of flames of fuel,
But ones that burn inside of us,
What make us look and feel alive,
Our body, mind and souls, which rule.


The very flame that seems to me,
Is faltering over a razor edge,
The blade that is this worldly fantasy,
Between the spirit and the body, that wedge.


The trick or treat of man's creation,
Far ahead of the rhythm divine,
Inviting jollies of life and colour,
Like the tempting grip of an age old wine.


This mystic plethora of worldly pleasure,
Where greater men came and lost their way,
I am, but, a mere young boy,
What lure do I have, to not stay?


Why not let my thoughts go asunder,
Marinating in the mindless pleasures,
Of joyous chaos and easy ways,
Why not run after transient treasure?


When in the end, we all shall perish,
Become one with our dusty friends,
Why should I restrain my urge to live,
As part of this celebration immense?


And thus, the flame shall falter and stumble,
Till someone arrives and holds the hand,
Of every other wavering mortal,
And guides them through these treacherous lands.


For that is how we shall live in peace,
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high,
Free from the burden of shallow mediocrity,
Buried deep down, the demons shall lie.