Boss asks euphemistically <br />“You’re not the same force you were once” <br />Friends demand anxiously <br />“Hey! What happened to your antics and puns? ” <br /> <br />He smiles at once and embraces silence! <br />What can he say of something he wishes to suppress? <br />There is always in heart, something hush, hush <br />One cannot divulge and publish <br /> <br />For a pure materialist <br />This heart is a bloody pump-set <br />And for a staunch spiritualist <br />It is a holy nest where God rests <br /> <br />But lo! For a frustrated bard <br />His heart is a live hearth <br />Where there is no birth or death <br />For pain, laughter, love and hatred <br /> <br />Burning there are hell-fires <br />Evaporating his every dropp of tear <br />He is a static stolid volcanic cliff <br />With no hope for love and no love for life <br /> <br />He is left to watch the remnant soot <br />Of his unrecognizable past <br />Writing down on his inured inner rampart, <br />Slowly, letter after letter, his suicidal note <br /> <br />Soon we may hear his last melodious tune <br />When that over-burnt heart-hearth breaks open<br /><br />sathya narayana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-slow-death-of-a-bard/
