Maybe and Hence

by Pijush Kanti Deb

In the slum of huts and skyscrapers,
let our steps be crossed the line-
drawn by our own pride and contumacy,
and be rushed towards the ocean of tears.
Maybe,
our haughty hearts raise their palpitation,
brimful pockets move their heads
to their either sides again and again,
the planets and satellites ---
luminous in our own brightness
get self-eclipsed and become gloomy,
the bitterness of failure of yesterday
disturbs the steps to fall by a slip
and unknown tomorrow suffers from
the biting of our own blood.
Hence,
let our proceeding steps are to be delinked
from babbling tongues and timid hearts,
our mortal eyes and ears be sanctioned a leave,
the line only be crossed with the hint of
the immortal sensation of our souls
and our tears be dropped  in the ocean
to tarnish it into a manageable river.