Author : Lekshmi Krishna P
Company : Zafin Software Centre Of Excellence
Email : email@example.comfirstname.lastname@example.org
I see your soft, warm hands
Clutching the rough cold window bars
(May be, young warmth leaning on icy Age!).
The volcano of your soul
Erupting on your quaking face…
The lava oozing out of the caves
In the middle of the red-hot desert.
The adjacent oceans overflowing
In the tsunami of unexpressed emotions..!
“He doesn’t hear”’ I hear.
“He so can’t speak and learn”’ I learn
Of you who have come to learn
Among the ‘normal’ learners of your age
And mortals like me who am deaf
With the noise of our own voice..!
Oh, my sweet child, cry not!
Listen with your soul
What I speak by my soul:
Blessed are you, for you won’t hear
What we blessed with ears are fated to hear.
No sweetheart will poison your life
With honey oozing from her sweetened tongue,
With the heaviest promise she would throw to the wind
Like the lightest feather, when her time is come!
Nor will you turn the hapless rope
In the tug-of-war of faiths and philosophies..!
You can be you where you will be forced to be anything but you
And silently contribute against the deafening cacophony!
Your soul, your heart and the entire you
Will vibrate and resonate
To compensate for your stubborn eardrum
And the aimless tongue that would have sung chorus
Had you been ’normal’ to our abnormal world!
Cry not, my child!
The world will one day listen to you
As you have the ‘freedom’ not to listen to it..!