the ugly writers

And We Call You…


For decades we have been waiting,

There on the shore,

There on the floor,

To feel your coolness,

To feel your silence,

To let we embrace you,

Indeed we all love you,

Indeed we all need you,

So, bestowed to you what not;

……millions of our lives,

And tons of our blood,

But somewhere around, in slumber,

You lie or lie hidden,

Somewhere under the almond tree,

Or in the deep woods of Pirpanchal,

Or somewhere upon the white mounds,

You still seem to be angry,

And still you don’t come,

So and so, still we die,

Enough we lived in panic,

And enormous we suffered,

This agony and that havoc,

        This daze and that barbarity…,

.. has throbbed us within,

And tattered our peace,

And still you seem to be angry,

And still you don’t come,

But we still wait to hug you,

We still wait to feel you,

And we still survive with same outlook,

That one day you will come,

As comes the sun in the early morning,

With a promising illumination,

Come and illuminate us,

Illuminate our induced dark vale,

Come through the deep waters of Vyeth,

Or come with the wings wide spread,

And waving with verve,

Through the ledges of snow claded mounts,

Now come and set us free,

Set us free,

From the bondages of oppression,

Set us free,

From the state of trepidation and tribulation,

And we call you ……..