Have Hiv/Aids. You Still Live Till The Creator Wants You To. Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Have Hiv/Aids. You Still Live Till The Creator Wants You To.

If he had been your Brother; then you'd have perhaps mischievously poked at his enchantingly twinkling nose; uninhibitedly cavorting with him through the freshly rain soaked fields of untamed corn,

If he had been your Father; then you'd have perhaps earnestly served him to
the best of your ability; sleeping compassionately close to his blessed heart; conceiving it to be the most invincibly celestial fortress on this fathomlessly enamoring planet,

If he had been your Husband; then you'd have perhaps walked shoulder to shoulder with him in every aspect of symbiotically fragrant existence; miraculously ameliorating the terseness in his temples; with the artistry of your mellifluously heavenly fingers,

If he had been your Neighbor; then you'd have perhaps enlightened every instant of his flabbergasting boredom; with the blazingly unfettered optimism in
your resplendently innocuous eyes,

If he had been your Uncle; then you'd have perhaps altruistically listened to the experiences of his exhilaratingly intrepid life; convivially sharing supper with him in the darkness of the insidiously sultry night,

If he had been your Teacher; then you'd have perhaps bent in due obeisance to each of his philanthropically eternal commands; trying to imbibe the maximum you could; of his sermons on the chapters of priceless life and humanity,

If he had been your Fan; then you'd have perhaps indefatigably tried to live up to his expectations; everytime you had the opportunity to majestically portray your inimitably iridescent talent to the boundless world,

If he had been your Mentor; then you'd have perhaps worshipped him every unfurling second of the brilliantly streaming day and sensuous night; dedicating every ounce of your magnificent success to his tirelessly sublimating voice,

If he had been your Slave; then you'd have perhaps irrefutably ensured that he got his quintessentially reinvigorating meals of the day; so that he diligently shed every iota of his robust perspiration for you all his life,

If he had been your Shadow; then you'd have perhaps magnanimously allowed
him to snuggle close to your chest in the wilderness of the ruthless night; replenishing his every desire with the unequivocal exuberance in your life,

If he had been your Son; then you'd have perhaps perpetually kept him cuddled in your impregnably unflinching lap; sequestering him from even the most infinitesimal treachery of existence; till the very last breath of your life,

If he had been your Ancestor; then you'd have perhaps tantalized every bone of your lugubriously opprobrious survival; wholesomely enshrouded and enchanted; with the inscrutable tales of his pristine past,

If he had been your Sculptor; then you'd have perhaps cherished each of his treasured moldings; profoundly and intimately in the innermost dormitories of your soul; for times immemorial,

If he had been your Godfather; then you'd have perhaps fervently yearned to
kiss his divinely feet every unleashing instant of ebulliently enthralling existence; perennially assimilate the ideals of his benign life in every ingredient of your crimson blood,

If he had been your Friend; then you'd have perhaps wholeheartedly welcome him with open arms; wanting to be a perpetual element of every of his joy and inexplicable tribulations,

If he had been your Fiancé; then you'd have perhaps tirelessly dreamt about him a countless days and nights; till the time you didn't forever unite with him; in unassailably sacrosanct connubial bliss,

If he had been your Successor/Kin; then you'd have perhaps spent a limitless moments of your life breathing affably close to him; tirelessly explaining to him the way in which he should disburse your countless millions; after you were veritably dead,

If he had been your Chef; then you'd have perhaps unlimitedly admired the unbelievably incredulous art in his palms; that spell-bindingly evolved the most ravishingly appetizing of delicacies within the ethereal wink of an eye,

But if he wasn't related with you in any manner; then the same Him having HIV/AIDS would have definitely been several ostracized and abused by you; as
you disdainfully discarded him from the fabric of your sanctimonious society
as a sinful untouchable,

Hopelessly failing to realize that there was no "Relation/Religion Tag" needed to bond with another living being of your kind; as the Lord had created everyone alike unconquerably bonded in the religion of humanity;

And whereas he could still survive with HIV/AIDS for a long time till
the Omnipotent Creator wanted him to breathe and even without your support;
but for disrespecting another of your fellow mate; for criminally disowning one similar to you of the Lord's Omnipresent living kind; you for one had definitely confirmed an undeniably ghastly place for yourself in the realms of diabolically pulverizing hell; even before you could reach; the end of your impoverished destined time.

Wednesday, March 9, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: aids,life,nice,victory
Nikhil Parekh

Nikhil Parekh

Dehradun, India
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