Life = Death - volume 10 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

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13. TOBBY—MY DARLING EVERYBODY

 

Was he an angel who'd descended right from the center of the sky; to bless each ingredient of my space with unparalleled happiness—grant me the unfailing tenacity to reach closer to the most impossible of my dreams?

 

Was he an invincibly pristine cloud—which incessantly showered the golden rain of prosperity upon my bereaved countenance; saw to it that I came out effulgently alive-- everytime I entered my corpse entirely dead?

 

Was he the ultimate prince of my miserably asphyxiated destiny—who metamorphosed every maelstrom of flagrant luck that dared come my way; into a fountain of perennial happiness?

 

Was he every mischievously uninhibited wrinkle in my otherwise livid kin—which profoundly inspired every tangible and intangible entity that I encountered on the streets—and fomented them to majestically think?

 

Was he the answer to every flummoxing enigma of my dreaded existence—the most perfect sound of 'yes' which unequivocally dissipated from each of my entangled heartbeat?

 

Was he the pricelessly ultimate valentine of my life—taking me a fathomless kilometers away from every brutally estranged reality; innocuously dancing with me all the time in God's invincible paradise?

 

Was he the unsurpassable confidence that empowered even the tiniest of my veins—as the battlefield of life grew more and more cannibalistic and I was subjected to the goriest devils of sadistic blood?

 

Was he every different word of unbridled innocence that my mouth uttered— solely epitomizing only the essence of truth in a world – otherwise deplorably swamped by a pack of manipulative wolves?

 

Was he the very best and untainted form of God's creation in my palms—uninhibitedly swaying from one corner to the other—and granting the most meaningful impetus to me in my impoverished life?

 

Was he the most unprejudiced moisture of my disdainfully shrunken eyes—genuinely leading me to the corridors of eternally magical freedom; reflecting my undying compassion for ever fraternity of living kind?

 

Was he the innermost voice of my inconspicuously buried soul—which earnestly strived for uniting the farthest ends of this boundless planet; into the insuperably miraculous religion of mankind?

 

Was he the embers of unflinching passion innately smoldering in my bruised bones—fervently clapping everytime I advanced towards any path of goodness; after crumbling into morbid soil?

 

Was he the impregnable fortress that fearlessly towered around each trembling part of me - safeguarding even the most infinitesimal aspect of my existence to the hilt — whilst I snored to the tunes of my very own whimsical dreams ?

 

Was he the most faithful friend; philosopher and guide that I harbored—who stuck more unassailably to me than my very own shadow—even as I eccentrically marched the walk of ghastly death?

 

Was he my ultimate definition of a perfect living being—unfathomably mischievous and adventurous—yet one of the most immaculately princely pearl of God's earthly rhyme?

 

Was he every heartfelt tear that effusively cascaded down my eyes — as every different human chose to befriend the commercially sleazy devil from the atmosphere — rather than blend with the beats of immortal love divine ?

 

Was he each of my ancestor and sibling at the most crucially critical of my times—lending his poignant ears to even the inconsolable of my cries—when the rest of the 'blood related' word round me had died?

 

Was he an inimitable magician that suddenly appeared out of nowhere in my beleaguered life—ensuring the most charismatically magnetic smile on my lips till the very end of my time?

 

Was he each of my heartbeat which never betrayed—considering itself the richest on this earth alive—as it loved and acquired love of one and all on this gigantic planet alike?

 

Was he my most infallibly perfect impression on mundane soil—as I chose to tread the path never ever taken before—upon which failure was the most certainly biggest writing on the walls?

 

Ah well, for others he might as well been merely a dog named ' Tobby ' who had taken birth in the same form , at the same instant that he was dead - but for me he was ; is and shall  remain as my darling ' Everybody ' till I breathe my very last and till

beyond a destined more of my nicely varied lifetimes .