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The Big God.

The big God,

Shook my hands.

He said-“Hi, my friend, how are you?”

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Here the Lord Of the Universe,

Was calling me his friend!

He again said-“How are you my friend?”

I replied-“I am very fine sir.”

He said-“In all the universes, I am no sir. It is love from all beings which keeps me going, otherwise it is hard to sustain.”

“But sir, aren’t you the mightiest of all?”

“Oh, no. That is my father.”

“I am simply known as the Big God.”

“Well, how do you do sir?”

“I am doing just fine.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“No, we all aren’t”

“That’s how it is.”

“That’s very true sir, that’s how it is.”

Adios!

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The Rose Didn’t Tell Me That It Wanted My Shirt’s Button Hole.

The rose which Ma had bought for me,

Was big and round.

Yet, I kept it in the front pocket of my shirt.

But the rose would fall out of my pocket and a small thorn of its stem,

Would get lodged near the button hole of my shirt.

Not once, not twice, not even thrice.

It happened four times.

I told Ma-“Ma the rose is constantly falling out of my pocket and getting lodged near the button hole of my shirt.”

Ma-“Maybe it wants the button hole of your shirt”.

I removed the thorn and lodged the rose in the button hole of my shirt.

Though big and round,

The rose looked really sweet.

I kept there for a few minutes,

And then laid it in front of my maternal grandmother’s photo.

The rose indeed wanted the button hole of my shirt.

Adios!

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A Truant Singer.

A truant singer,

Would flip his songs.

Promising the audience,

Never he let himself be seen.

A truant singer,

Made all possibilities,

Of distaste, passion and wins,

He let the wind flow,

And brought the faith in mass go against him.

He stood for himself,

And changed his thoughts.

He became a different man,

And won everyone’s heart.

He wasn’t truant anymore,

But a true and honest singer,

Whose songs reached the zenith,

Where it should have gone before.

The songs he sings are beautiful,

Let him play the music,

And let us listen to him,

For the world is his stage,

As he didn’t go asunder.

Adios!

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A Rose Which Can Sing.

A rose which can sing,

Is closest to my heart.

I have such a rose.

It was given to me by my maternal grandmother.

It does sing,

But what it says is unknown to all.

A rose which can sing,

Is God’s own rose,

For he is the creator of such pristine and beautiful things.

A rose which can sing,

Is a rose supreme and excellent.

Adios!