Life = Death - Volume 2 - Poems on Life , Death by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

7. THE DAY I DIDN’T BREATHE 

The day I didn’t wear clothes; I shivered uncontrollably in the austere breeze of uncouth winter,

They day I didn’t eat food; I found myself miserably slithering towards the

corridors of precarious starvation,

The day I didn’t write poetry; I found my fingers virtually paralyzed; and the blood in my robust veins metamorphosed into a morbidly colorless liquid,

The day I didn’t bathe; I felt pools of disdainfully fetid sweat; stab my impeccable visage more than a billion treacherous thorns,

The day I didn’t sleep; I felt daggerheads of insurmountably fatigued exasperation; assassinating each iota of my blissfully mental peace,

The day I didn’t wink; I felt the romantic youth in me die an obnoxiously famished death; all mischief in the atmosphere pathetically desert me like a piece of dilapidated garbage,

The day I didn’t pray; I felt like a diabolical monster; drifting further and further away from the sacrosanct countenance of Omnipotent God,

The day I didn’t lie in the lap of my mother; I felt as if the world had come to a brusque end; there wasn’t an iota of humanity prevailing in any quarter of this colossal Universe,

The day I didn’t swim; I felt as if the insatiable exuberance in my bones had died

a profusely asphyxiated death,

The day I didn’t discover; I felt as if my incredulously augmenting fantasy; had ruthlessly blended with ethereally dwindling horizons,

The day I didn’t dream; I felt that life was a barbarically monotonous workshop; with each hour of the day relentlessly restricted to the realms of parasitic office,

The day I didn’t realize; I felt horrendously pompous and pretentiously inflated; with my conscience whipping me to profusely apologize to the mesmerizing winds outside,

The day I didn’t drink water; I felt the tumultuously scorching agony in my throat; compelling me to swoon like withering fish on the ground,

The day I didn’t tease my sister; I felt as if I sitting astoundingly close to my grave; although I was just on the threshold to commence life,

The day I didn’t gaze at the resplendent stars; I felt as if my world was intransigently confined to the four bare brick walls of my dwelling,

The day I didn’t respect my elders; I felt that I was boisterously irascible fly; about to be inevitably squashed by the sword of righteousness,

The day I didn’t listen to my heart; I felt as if I had horrifically failed in every attempt of mine; although I stood towering on the absolute pinnacle of life,

The day I didn’t wholeheartedly love; I felt there was no reason to survive; started prematurely on my journey to the heavens; without the tiniest insinuation of Almighty Lord,

And the day I didn’t breathe; there was no time for me to feel or romanticize about hell or heaven; for I lay like a wholesomely mute corpse; infact to cut the story short; I was irrefutably dead.