I'm the object of your enforced ruminations,
I'm not your prayer.
I'm not part of unconscious callings,
Or the nature's hints.

I'm not sublime,
But pungently present and evident.
I'm not one that props up in your headspace unannounced,
But you can't ignore me throughout.

I'm not your soul's anchor,
But a fibre of its constitution.
I'm always your reminder hanging on the fridge,
Never the glimmer in your heart's pond.

And someday I'll make a prominent sound,
And endow eternal silence thereafter,
And then you shall see how many flowers i would get,
For my absence will forever be felt.


Haunted, and burned onto your memories,
The conscious and the natural.
Guilt in death shall be a force,
Greater than gratitude and love i living seeked.
-Divyosmi Goswami