Would I too be forgotten, like countless, in the world?
Why born, when gone, an existence, so absurd?
Extinct would be me, a face gone forever
Never to return, from the dust, a lost endeavor
Always content, eighty years, so long, they are
Many yesterdays, died, on them, I slept, with doors ajar
For todays to come and yesterdays become, but still, didn’t rise
My history, lost in yesterdays, tomorrows, another, compromise
My glory, awaited me, with pity in her eyes
I lost, in petty dealings, my kins’ selfish sighs
The tryst never ensued, that waif, aged and died
A life squandered, for nothing, an unrequited bride
I chose to be the audience, clapped my heart out
They scored their points, their glory, I lost my game, my bout
I shrank myself, shorter, than once was, my shadow
Why chose to be forgotten, with willing world, to follow
Stood in endless queues, for rations and admissions
And pleaded my dues, paid bribes, called “commissions”
Spent up in survival’s rituals, chasing offices and dates
A man summarized between, life and death certificates
Not to be immortal, was an unaware choice
A tiny speck, my being, would the world rejoice?
Diminished to a name, few dozen would recall
To forget, in few years, never written, on any wall
Alas, had I spent, my young blood, to an aim
I had been someone now, an indelible name
Alas, had I not lost, in a horde of, mean kinfolks
I had been, among the greats, not amongst, the brokes
Would my funeral be something, or nothing at all?
This world would still live, minus me, nothing would befall
Eighty years misspent, lavishly, like a loaned out sum
At end, forsaken, nameless, me, see what have I become?
I ain’t the first , nor the last, to miss
The train to glory, whistles by, not the only one, this
Never late to catch, and grab a berth, not to be, outrun
To redeem the only birth, and save the pain, of being no one!
© 2015 Vikas Chandra