No, Think, Change, and Die

 Mythological stories,

ancient sages have written

with blood,

and what nihility immortalized,

centuries after centuries,

as colossal elephant,

the Gods, the angles of no-thing, 

and the tamed stories of each

but what honey was poured —

in vast jar, killing,

and seducing millions of bees;

sucking the sweet honey until 

the life's custom to yield;

no, they beg to taste

ephemeral honey

and go to extreme darkness 

forever, yet;

I yearn to be a character

from that "nihility,"

where every bee

would kiss,

suck

my lip too,

and I would provide them —

honey,

so sweet, so charming,

so titillate,

I would not ask for it,

nor eager to scent their lips —

Still, they would gulp,

so noiseless,

and suck until

the realization of truth

and openness of mind

then they may taste death

so sweet, though not unknowingly

but knowingly the truth behind 

the false,

and though

I don't exist

the way they think,

I'll be immortalized —

though reluctantly,

yet the tasteful lips —

so sweet—

sweet—sweet.

 

Written by Suman Mondal