Poem: Obituary

Our Faces, bequeathed behind, stared at the face which eternally strayed,

Which smiled back from the Sliding reminiscences of halcyon seasons,

One last time, accepting the eulogies we chirped, before it began to fade,

May be, into an Outside, from where the Paradoxes would find reasons.

May be, from that unseen distance, where the jumbled enigma would juxtapose,

the enlightened face of the newcomer would shriek out in an attempt to echo,

Dumbfounded, it would exclaim to itself, “Ah! It was right there, I’d been so close!”

But, the answer would never reach our sceptical faces, soaked in assumed fiasco.

But, anyways, we will resume our endeavours with the remaining faces,

Of which, some will suffice enough, some will espouse sundry thirst,

And some unforgettable faces who will leave us with little or no traces 

For whom, to sing the newly written eulogies, we will be the first. 

Faces will go and Faces will come, 

Phases will go and Phases will come.

And then, one day ...

-Ashish