Recovery. Poem by RAJ VIKRAM

In the feeble light
that engulfed the
room which he called
as his own dwelling
he felt as if time
had ceased to exist.


He didnt knew whether
it was dusk or dawn
and he didnt want
to know either,
bogged down by
medicines galore
and the fleeting
glimpse of mortality.


In the highway
of life, never for once
he loved stillness
he wanted to move on
complaining continually of time
that disappeared like
a racing car.

Now as he hear the
pacing of legs
of the prancing death
in this non descript
room with a chill
that smelt death.
He felt still within.
The world existed
outside, but he didnt
care one bit.


He wanted recovery
but not a rushed one.
He just wanted to
infuse real life in
his battered veins.
Mortality is a
fact but seldom
acknowledged.


But now in this dull
lit room in the
envelop of the
green blanket
he felt peace,
being with himself
awash in tranquility
He felt recovered.