by Shahinur Islam
In the whirlwind does fly the heated sand
of life when the wind lets out a long sigh;
but its desire was to fly as a bird
or as a butterfly from tree to tree,
from flower to flower. But alas! When it flies off,
it stumbles again on the heated sand –
on the sand emerged from spending the life
and the defiant desire impedes only
the tempo and pace of the rest of life.
Thus some fate or other just comes away
and fulfills the desire of flying off.
In the heated puzzle of the bellows
even an iron-life just begins to melt
like the ice at the hand of the blacksmith;
life has known it spending a whole life
melting, rotting and being penniless
in the very bazaar of life and world.
And an investment can only be made
with such a life in being of others
whose bodies consume the higher interest
at the compound rate from bones and marrows
of that life and accumulate fat-rolls.