Life is nothing but pain— A scream from a bird trapped in the cold forest of the heart. Eyes stare into the distant blue, Heavy with unspoken longing. Life is a breathless crawl Through the black, mysterious tomorrow. Life is the note of Imon Kalyan, A raga where “Piya nahi aayi re...” becomes the sigh wrung from a dying soul. Life is the crippled pen of a jobless dreamer, Helpless, stalled, abandoned— Yet burning with the futile desire to live even within the death of self. Life is nothing but A sandcastle built on emptiness, Washed away by time, Again and again. Life is, one day, to die— Leaving only a name in the attendance book of the earth, And disappearing forever behind the curtain.