The Lost Child

What Poet Blake would have thought that made him to write his feelings What Mulkraj Anand would have thought that made him to write another feeling But the lost child is still lost searching for his home and salvation in the bewildered world, the passion looses its pace to identify the testimonial Eyes swallow all tears of life hollowness of sky has confined him the echo of his turgent cry whispers all in his ears But no one is there to listen his cry The suffocating vultures search for prey divine soul asks to come on his way The lost child is undecided where to come and where to go as if the river lost her way Divulging time is fragnent now her aroma is lost in foggy weather sensitizing blue has turned pale Hunger and thirst are all relinquished eye lids have forgotten to shut the door The lost child asks his future to come and hold in hand My soul is hovering like the lost child being confined with gloomy of life