You the warp and woof of an economy
Succor lives with your sleepless sweat,
Hibernating all the swevens and liaisons
In the fossae of mead
With no tinge of remonstrance
And no alarum of miscarriage.
The world reckons its life
In your unquiet pastoral feet
Beyond boundaries, beyond religions
Where you adulate an unalloyed ideology
‘Give me soil
I will make it Gold,’
Radiates the virginity of your divine blood.
You make the world realize your eyes
When you bestow on it the pomes
Of your trials and tribulations
Evanesce with the dash of liquid sunshine,
Letting the teeming millions
To amp up the one in their womb
With the vintage of your commitment
Till his life’s last run.
— Sudipta Chowdhury
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