The Awakening Poem by Subrata Ray

Morning comes and goes,
Goes the cycles of shows,
And the wintery sleep,
Of my toad continues,
I wake with no awakening.

Dream-boats in dream float,
The boarder-line often is imagined,
My hallow vaunt gives war-cry,
And I see Time devouring my parasites.

Someone's whisper abruptly comes,
'You are getting a barren land'
I try to recognize and feel,
But clothed in sloth, I am chill.

The colossal Gay runs rampant,
And when the Herald summons to awake,
I begin to dip in the darkest night,
The oil is burnt, the wick turns into ashes!