A familiar knock on door
Breaks years of silence
The thud breaks an awake slumber
The binding fetters are stretched
They became rusty with the years
Of surrender to the choice
Only since everyone was tied
Actually there was no choice
Between forms of submission
A ruminating of the same cud
In quest of new essence eveytime
The pale that appeared to quench
Rather parched the little oasis
One mirage led to another
Till it was the edge of horizon
And the hoof was struck in grass
That sprouted often on marshlands
Struck in the slowly sinking ship
The swimmer is unable to escape
Now the knock amidst static layers
Proclaims the return of the shepherd
The one who guides the herd to barn
Amidst the jingle and trot through beaten tracks
His hark to the ears and thud with the stick
The Master who weaves symphony to crescendo
Also listens patiently the feeble silence
Of those with an unsure trot in herd
Those who awake only with His knock.
Delhi
17.54hrs
2142
27.4.24
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