Life = Death - Volume 9 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

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8. SLEEP STILL REFUSED 

 

Even though I ran boundless kilometers on the trot; with the Sun flaming full throttle on the nimble pores of my visage,

Sleep still incorrigibly defied my eyes; even as my legs as heavy as the overwhelmingly gargantuan mountain range; inundated with acrid thorns.

 

Even though I indefatigably read all throughout the heart of the sultry night; with the whites of my eyes metamorphosing to an ominously venomous red,

Sleep still immutably eluded my bleary countenance; even as each ingredient of my blood crawled towards the tenterhooks of inevitable extinction.

 

Even though I ate the most appetizing meals on this colossal Universe; appeasing the gluttony of my visage to the most unprecedented limits,

Sleep still insidiously betrayed my soul; even as each pore of my flesh badly wailed to perennially rest.

 

Even though I ploughed infinite distance on the roll; like an avalanche of ice; pathetically melting under the choking fireball of Sun,

Sleep still treacherously dawdled from my conscience; even as the impoverished caricature of my skull; pledged to devastatingly disentangle itself from my sagging shoulders.

 

Even though I bulldozed my way through the disdainfully mighty battle; eloping countless lands barefoot; saving my skin from the lecherous traitors,

Sleep still drifted unfathomable miles from my drearily dwindling bones; even as the most intricate dormitories of my brain; lambasted like a billion snakes every  unleashing minute.

 

Even though I hoisted a battalion of unsurpassable bricks over my shoulders; indefatigably cutting across the deplorable dungeon of gloom lingering ahead,

Sleep still miserably obfuscated my drowning persona; even as I died an  incomprehensible number of deaths in my body inside.

 

Even though I swam intransigently across the torrentially choppy ocean; exerting the astronomically brute force of my bones; against the vociferously roaring storm,

Sleep still maniacally vindicated my senses; even as each hair on my demeanor; pathetically decayed to coalesce with threadbare soil.

 

Even though I wept for centuries immemorial; infiltrating my vision deliberately with a million needles soaked in scorpion blood,

Sleep still repelled each of my insurmountably tyrannical body; even as the last ounce of robust exhilaration wholesomely evaporated from my heart and soul.

 

And even as the entire Universe slept in blissful peace; snoring in the aisles of perpetual contentment and mystical enthrallment; outside,

Sleep still refused to enter my blood; my body; my soul;

As although I had achieved the most cherished missions of my life; my eyes  continued to frantically grope for the love of their lives; the mate of their dreams;

the mate that made them fantasize and dream; even while they were open

and alive.