by Pijush Kanti Deb
The undead robots we are today,
made diplomatically by the dead brains,
paralyzed to the epics scanned by turns
by the dynamic and enthusiastic neighbor,
surprisingly ambidextrous in refusing the nectar
while a glass of hemlock is preferred to drown.
Counseling, good wish and blessing-the pearls
quite generous and tolerant to our thorny attitude,
yet their dropping on us is unfelt and unpicked
and putting two and two together today
seems to be unable to create a better equation.
Tomorrow is ever-hopeful, so ascertained
for a giant touch of an honest morning-
rewarding us a luminous sun, rising.
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