Simple light I assume, I needed 
nothing more, nothing less: 
as I felt tired under the battered shade of a 
tamarind tree. 

Sour sweet pulp, sticky and acidic 
life had held me by throat; 
and I sang like a blue bird 
in a golden cage. 

The voice in me was different 
neither of a stricken lamb, 
nor of a green childhood 
but a roaring sea. 

From the surface I was rising 
in sun, before ship comes 
with cargo of grief, 
and sorrow and pain. 

You know, I don’t think, I think. 
Death is taking lease on my name. 
in other world, 
where my counterpart is fighting for virtue.

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