by Prabir Gayen
In thy infiniteness is my absolute rest,
my being, reposing in thy silence.
The immense and cold indifference,
The thrilling boon of wordless love,
art the seed -bed of living.
the magnitude of Listless communion and
Vastness of thy calling is my earnest Vigor.
The days of innocent imitation of witless
Madness thou wert a caring mother,
The giver of peace and sleep voucher.
Thou art living, Emphatic pulsation
to my moments of separation,
the struggling hour of aspiration.
The heart still bubbles to vibrate and imitate
The life's offerings of Enlargement, the happiness to ruminate.
Thy silence, the killing numbness is the
Sepulchral dirge of my jaded self.
Into the womb will I doom, a deep slumberous