Sorry man, I found you too late,
Only when they brought your corpse out,
That you were a prisoner all the time,
In the attic that was locked from outside!
I had had a weird sensation,
Of someone singing melancholy dirges,
A mellifluous voice that could melt mountains,
And bring from that frothing ravines,
My folks have a stringent heart,
No mercy have they ever known,
Still I am unable to guess the crime,
That put you in this lonely shrine.
Perhaps your views didn’t match theirs,
Or you raised a voice again false practices,
A rebel in their eyes you might have been,
Though simply listening to your inner voice.
Perhaps you did the crime of falling in love,
With the girl extraordinaire that lived on land,
And you were thrown in the dingy cell,
While she was buried in the desert sand.
Lucky you were to have a little casement,
To have a glimpse of changing world,
A patch of sun to scribble on the walls,
Musings of your golden heart.
Lucky this rocking chair where you sat,
And thought of multiple births you will have,
When the times would change and,
People will know the beauty of love.
Alas! I couldn’t know you when you lived,
But each artefact in the room,
Each scratch, each word scribbled on the wall,
Will take me nearer to the man you were.
Will that be my undoing too?
In love with a dear departed soul.
Or will I find you in the time to come,
Waiting for me with roses in the fold.
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