Hope of begining

There is no room
For dying soul
Only few canter of memories
No haven for praise
But soulful hymns
Everything perishes
I'm forced to drag myself
In the transitional phase
Nothing else
But the magical number
Of two zero one nine
On the calendar only.

Dr. Ashutosh

What I'm

I'm nothing

But a stone of mile

Showing what left behind

And where to go next

My every stance is

To clatter the wings of time.

I never sit on spongy surface

How can I allow myself

To take rest before destiny

Every color of hard work

Is in my quiver

I wake up before morning

Starts to move

Without caring the shiny stars

People speak on my silence

Because I'm carved

As their milestone.

Dr. Ashutosh