by Shahinur Islam
When the illusive gap is plugged up between life and death,
in the sudden drop of the scenes— all powerful preparedness
disappears forever— as if throwing the cold water
in the blazing bonfire.
This truth of the moment still remains so much true as if
all the grand arrangements of life were overwhelmed to it
in a second.
Yet bonfire burns— it longs for burning everlastingly
by making all the timber-kindling-straw-diesel its fuel,
even by sacrificing itself in the other fire
or else by swallowing up the other fire fearfully.
It longs to burn many more days than the star in the sky
burning for million years more than other luminaries.
But alas! Behind the curtain in unpromising time
who seems to stand at ease and write graffiti on the wall
of some life or other, and as per the direction wall
which compliant slaves equip themselves to obey it always
with the cold water in their hands? Which god orders the pawns
of all lives in the chessboard of the world and still goes on
playing the game as he wishes? And he makes the ill rule
his rule for some reason or other, and rolls down laughing
for all the helpless checkmates of the world!