Class VIII (VKV Nirjuli)
Again I walk through the same route.
Of guilt; with my bag full of excuses.
I ignorantly forced my way to the exit.
Alas! It was too small for the bag.
Can you hear rustling of the wheel?
Of time which is taking us away?
But no! My magnetic regret took me away.
The thought of acceptance falls,
From the clouds of heaven,
But lo! My umbrella of ego comes.
Now again the wheels of time tricks…It calls.
I go, and regret makes me freak.
I become the doll of the battle.
The rays of my so-long happiness,
Drops from the grey sky,
It falls on my hand and I drop the bag.
Yet another ray drops
Now on my other hand.
So I unknowingly drop the umbrella…
But the small rays are long gone.
I longed for them as I ran to the exit,
Which was ever-open,
And Now I am free…..
But the scars from the weight
Of my bag…still remains same.
The rains again falls, for now
I accept the wounds as mine.