Poetry

If I Could

Hankering reincarnation as an elixir,

For the affliction of nonce spell.

Aspiration to publicate existence

& endurance,

With prior motion, which no entity actually can.

 

Elecit what is foredoom,

To us, immutable from God.

Transition of bale, at will,

Is nevermore a corporeity of whim.

 

Some may gripe, it bigoted,

On the part of GOD.

To bereave of one so cherished,

A prevalent sob of the ‘Mod’.

 

Ever bizarre are his contrivance,

Never, is, He found cliquish.

On our part, we to discrepate,

Between the voracity & the deify.

 

So never feel spurned & despise,

Even if you miss your ‘choice’.

Felicitous, your perception,to cortege

Shall recapitulate, nectarous cloying of voice.

 

                                                                               ~ Stuti Saxena Singh
                                                                            India

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