The Final Call Poem by J T Jayasingh

The Final Call

The final call has come
Out from the woods,
The paths may be meandering
And labyrinth of creepers may
Make my journey tough,
Under darkened canopies
Man-eaters may lick their paws,
But let me go.

No beating of emotions,
No hiding, no cheating,
No intellectual pride,
No false fantasy,
No covering of masks,
No hindrance of expressions,
I would witness there.

Love or lust,
Feeding or being fed,
Running or chasing;
From a blinking doe
To a roaring lion,
All are straight and plain there-
By the law of nature-

The shrieking birds are calling,
Dripping drops are calling’
Let me go…

J T Jayasingh
jtjayasingh@gmail.com
Mob: 9995651972