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11 Years Ago
Each twilight,
syllable defining death and life,
resonates the pristine air around me.
I hear the silent whispers of myriad souls,
many of them are paupers
and the few revered ones,
purging their souls,
some on banks of holy river,
while many on other side of horizon,
enthralling my mind and body.

Every day, many reason the existence of their lives,
erstwhile, for years even I marvelled on my being.
But somewhere now I have realize this void of continuity, 
and like the humble stream of perennial rivulet
begetting the incessant civilization around it,
I embrace the elements of eternal reality.

Some ruminates on the desire of liberation,
while many stroll the distances in search of rhapsodic tale.
Even I am a reflection of such vagabonds,
but with the only treasure I inherit from ages,
I repose my callow soul with the eternal bliss,
while I embark on the new journey in tranquility.