Death of a friend hurts in inexplicable ways
Reminding me of the departed
As well as those in the queue
Waiting for the cue from up above

Removing me from the transient
And placing me in the permanent
The mind under free float
Where the present assumes irrelevance

Where I begin to analyse the basis of this life
And all the accumulations, I’ve fought so hard to gather
To protect and to preserve
So as to trumpet my name endlessly in the plazas of posterity

For the belongings shall finally gather dust of uncared years
And my name shall remain just a whisper, if at all
In the minds of those I loved and those who loved me in return
Ever so silently in the woods of anonymity

Subir Chakraborty / 11th June 2018