The other day I met-

A sad looking poet

Walking swift, very fast

Along the railway track.


I just moved ahead,

Just to talk to him,

As I peeped into his eyes,

He looked at me.


I just asked him-

What a flower is?

A dying soothing breeze

Supposed to carry at ease

The faint cry of a girl

On her bed of death.


Then I asked him-

What a baby girl is?

A foolish bubble on water

Dreaming to meet the ocean

Streaming down the hill

On a volcanic path.


Then I asked him-

What a long life is?

A stale plate of delicious food

Cooked with love and served with care

On pyre of a meaningless fire

Like a mole in Cobra's mouth.


And I asked him-

What a death, then is?

Railings of desire and walls of lust,

Locks of greed, wings glued,

Along the dark and heinous wrath,

Riding on the horse of egotist void

A day of release from Golden jail.