In this pain, I try to envision humour and poetry!: A poem 

I am continuously writhing in a warp of pain 

as if to stretch every membrane 

I want to explode like the memory 

of that great God-particle, I once was. 

But I still only writhe in pain, in the 

stillness of my soul; that has copped 

it for eternity. And I feel the wreaths of  

helplessness, in my predicament, that 

I, myself, chose – a patient sublimity and  

vulnerability. How I think I can know 

no joy and try to smile, in the poetry of thoughts 

of love, that have so much broken away like 

ice floes from a once magnificent glacier.  

Even in my pain, physical, mental and 

emotional, I try to imagine the whispers 

of the sun in its solar storm. And I think 

how the rage from pain can be muted, 

when there is no one around to listen!  

And I try to vow that no one ought to know! 

And I think of the lapis lazuli tears of  

Uranus, drifting in an insensitive void. 

And I should care to snub my own self-pity; 

Or Mars suddenly going bereft of life, 

Knowing that there was metempsychosis, 

Earth lived life so it should deny death 

even if we can’t tell the metaphors that  

differentiate between a lost reality 

and this photographic delusion that 

was not a creation of the originator; 

but ever seems to get more and more delusional and distanced from him! 

(And do you think I should pine for any of your offerings 

that are just worthless ideographs that make  

no alluring sound to the ears of my appetite or aspirations 

I only want the things that I cherished, that were lost to evil treachery 

So that I don’t feel the pain of being parted from them anymore 

And also be free of the gestapo of evil defrauding me! 

How would your monetary peanuts suit me fine, then? 

Do you think it is not an insult to God, that you can’t even fathom 

the (immaterial) needs of his magnanimous selfless sublime soul?)