Why is your head bowed?
You mobbed my sight,
And scared my glance!
For your eyes’ balls are red like blood;
Your lips helpless like corpse!
You are moody with groans
Like a pregnant woman in her mid labour.
There is a cloud of sorrow
In the atmosphere of your brows.
As it diffuses through your face terrain
Those many down pour tears’
You have aching in your remembrance
Disappointed, afflicted or what?
What is the colour of tears?
May be grey or red.
How does seems the flavour of tears is?
May be good for boasting or rusting?
What is the taste of tear?
Salty, may be bitter?
What is the weight of tears?
So light, that is a tear of joy
But very heavy
That is the tear of pains;
A heavy burden it is!
I have seen and measured some
In my trips in life.
It is like a mountain
Placed on the ant!
A man in pain is like
a drop of water in a lake of fire!
Pain is a burden!
A stinking wound
Deep and sour
Loaded with merciless fluid.
It is a swollen balloon
Ready to burst into laughter or tears
If laughter, it must accompany
Sighing of sorrow.
And if worth crying
It is with bitterness!
Its spear plunge into the
Well of thought
And, open the remembrance of affliction.
What a hell!
With a great heat
To give birth to tears if not
Sighing, bitterness and grief.
I salute the courage of the brave
Whose act keeps above pain?
They cannot sedate its spell
To dwell so secure within their rain
But like flourishing sedge
It grows in the world of the fable.
And, there mental strength is seduced
Until they secede from normalcy,
And give to them secretion of insanity.
Like in séance tale to the invisible,
Their thought scuttle between glance:
Than left a groaning in the brain.
He is insane,
In the tone so unreal!
He foams the irrelevance
You may want to know why this my tale?
I lost some beloved to the torment of pains!
What a needless pain we bear!
I lost some and recovered some!
Will have peace claimed
And, joy deprived!
Pain is a mountain
That has a plain
Man faith or fate’s actions define them ‘
Mountain or plain!
Both never lack links
Some Men’s hearts are like stove
That boils the water of pain,
This is the sole enemy’s design!
While wise heart, they have chillers
That pacifies the heat .
And give our souls blessed consolation.
What a joy that ran across my heart,
That we have great burden bearer!
He bore the heaviest load:
He endured the toughest pain,
He was crucified on the cruel mountain of death
And buried at the hopeless plain of threat.
Guided by all laws of limitations,
He faced the mountain and plain of pain
Yet, transcend all, in resurrection.
His life, sorrow, death and resurrection,
Covered all for you!
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
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