A Rebellion Interrogation Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

It is not only an inward walk
Soundly it's an outward journey too
From the confined me to my infinite-self
I cannot resist my light anyway
Neither I can attempt to subdue myself
I nowhere take any bits for ungranted
Nor do I intend to wave any logical eyelash
My heightened fire inquires about a lot!
In the meantime of unstable positioning,
I am but an stubborn, morbid man
Who marches through rough streets
Streets that envisage mere eccentricities
But there lies a stark intelligence
Sharply structured is its very version
Am I a ray of light?
Or a drop of doubt?
Does upon me rain the storm?
Or it is a kind spell of drizzling...
The rhetoric regulates my spirit
And the future looks lazily artificial
Deeply defused I stand
Engraved in my own shelter
I silently lose my very history
I lose your story that way
Your cheeks turn secretive
I read every line that flows down
I challenge your customs
Customs that create thee and me
And I undo their epistemic origins
Resilient winds go against me
I feel a rebellion rhythm
Sandy layer hits my aura
And the sea-wave awakens me
Like an abandoned child
Like a departed refugee
Like an unsung prayer
My pleas hinge in air
In air hangs my thirsty soul
Do I possess any such soul?
Or it is but your indispensable part?
Part is a part..
whole too is confused in parts
So you are a whole era
Or just layer of a phase?
They.. They are spectators
I'm to you and you to them
And they're solely to themselves
Every count kills me by and by
And I'm buried unanswered!