In the alcoves of life when insult strikes,

Morale dies but sorrow thrives,

Hate emerges and love vanishes,

And life cries in the lap of disgust.


In the upswing of life when insult strikes,

You zeal through life, leaving behind the fright,

To play the game of life, you retaliate to such strikes,

And in spasms of success, you sword the frights.


And in the grace of life when insult strikes,

Your seams burst to no respite,

And longings transform to disgraced moribund,

When the maze of life appears a mere tantrum,


And finally in the twilight of life when insults strikes,

Time is scarce and there is no rejoice,

And as I grapple towards my last rites,

I shudder at the pending equations of life,

For in heaven there is no carry forward of dice


So to each insult give a thought

Trace its footsteps back to your fraught

As time is scarce and the world imprecise

Penance will only be somewhat


For in the see-saw of life, lies the riles,

For I may have insulted, to get insulted,

Says the boomerang of life,

And now wait and watch, what more comes your way

In the unforeseen tremors of life.


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