Rheum
If nothing is lost on earth
Living is still at hand.
Loser’s tears are drops of silver
-The solace on the scorching sand.
The venom delicious
To be encompassed at mind
Meant to rinse
Impurity from life behind.
It’s a habit and a shelter
Soul’s continuous motivator
Destiny of existence
Symbol of one’s earthly presence.
If one has never cried,
The smog of life’s unseen.
No reflection then, has fallen
On the lenses, by themselves which are lean.
The sweetest companion,
As per solitude’s opinion.
Then the flush of the cheeks all red,
Looks as if they bled and through tears said-
‘Why these troubles come to me?’
But haven’t those same eyes loved the sea
Made of same saline crystals,
That pours at sorrow and greatest glee.
They are but the tribute to the missing,
The only memoir of the departed
Behind newfound laughter’s ring.
And the longing for that which has never been
It thus is the purest gem on earth ever
The part of life that has to be won,
And calls for a fight claiming-‘all is not over!’
The blood and flesh
Which has ever bred,
Through lively glows like rheum
Man has got to shed…
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