the sun wriggles out
of the blue-black-blue blanket
the crowd of clouds
begin to jump their own jumps
he opens his eyes
and his pillow turns crimson
he touches his blanket
and it warms up in saffron
he looks up at the wayward clouds
they blush pink in awe
united in solitude, they traverse
across the blanket -- sea-like
they will now run, jump, glide
the clouds will now not hide
for they have heard of his tales
of how he wriggled
out of a dark blanket
to bring to us this morning
burning, he smiles,
emulating his light, the clouds fly
Bhagat Singh
Didn't they garland you this morning?
1 Comments
Bhagat Singh was only a representative of all those who were committed to their convictions and had the guts to do what they felt was right. There must have been millions of Bhagat Singhs before and after him and we salute all of them. - Ravi
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