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3

Poetry

The Six Stages

Gourab Banerjee

Why would someone hurt themselves in chapters?
Why not let it go, all on a single night, and return to their soil?
Why drag yourself through the mud in the name of something, not returned?
Why push yourself into a treacherous pit, followed by a toxic turmoil?
How would one feel, after that long time, only to find oneself in bruises?
How can one live with oneself, knowing the debris left behind?
How is it that no matter what, one waits for the other through it all?
How can the same world, which is like a cradle to you, but to me, be so unkind?
When was it that one realized, it was a farce; a web of lies conjured?
When would one wake up, and look for the thorns, that grow with the rose?
When do you think is the proper time, to come up and confess your deed?
When would the clock strike, to peek into the soul that you froze?
Where do you think the wanderer travels, in search of the magical truth?
Where was it that you promised, to stick with me all along the way?
Where can one find, what they are truly looking for?
Where do the stars go after the night, to hide from the next day?
What was the reason for hurting themselves in chapters?
What could they be thinking while they are looking at the glass?
What made it so painful, that one piled on for more and more?
What reward waits for the one, who doesn’t know how to surpass?
Who do we look to, for the answers, in this endless peril?
Who pays us the alms, for the journey we survive alone?
Who do you think would unconditionally answer our prayers?
Who grants us peace, while we sit down, and atone?

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