Memories tattooed in our body,
And, haunting, leaving us bewildered,
awestruck sometimes
(with age passing)
Behind the footprints of time.
Some with blessed memories are replete,
Some with memories to be forgotten.
Lives, thus, in many forms sing,
stories to be told and not to be told,
If childhood, the age of bliss,
Would wit Grace give in all its secrets
That to go past he was but an epic
Not to be considered, not to be indulged in
How merrily would one delight in
the abode of freedom and ecstasy
How piously would one lead his life
How blessedly would one breathe his last
with the divine’s eternal love
Engraved on his soul…