The Saviour
How many days bereave in repose?
Chivvying rheum sighs in prostration,
Harkening words of yours;
Still reverberate in bosom.
And a doubt is clear,
You are nowhere;
Nowhere in my days,
Nowhere in my ulterior.
Trashy hours indolently smirk at me,
Thriving disdain slaps to probity;
My all rectitude goes in vain,
Your propensity is forever same.
Lamp of life flickers,
Wind of future tries to evict;
How I survive – you know not,
Days passed with you – the saviour.
