By Kamlesh Tripathi



In the eternity of lifetime,

There was seldom a downtime,

When the kind heart stopped blessing,

And the cunning tongue stopped maligning.


For heart was naïve,

Heart was kind,

And it was caring and forgiving,

Just like the Jesus of times,

But it had a straight tongue,

To remind about tough times and crimes.


Where the cunning tongue was sweet but vicious,

And had imbibed all the wickedness of times,

Just like the serenade with unheard rhymes,

And had a cunning mind,

That wanted to outlast the Jesus of times.


And all along in life,

When the cunning tongue was in dungeons,

Kind heart kept helping,

Kept aiding,

Kept forgiving,

Which the maligning tongue, kept loving,

In the happenings of bad times.


But even with all the rapturous showers in life.

Tongue had its own designs,

Of the wretched kind,

And so,

Tongue kept cribbing,

Kept maligning,

The Jesus of times.


But kind heart kept overlooking,

Kept forgiving and forgetting,

Cunning tongue’s venomous onslaught,

That lasted an eon of time.


And for the Jesus of times,

It was only heartfelt regrets,

That it had a heart of gold,

Laced with a straight tongue,

Not appreciated by times.


Even when it spoke for values,

For goodness,

And for virtues,

But now time was running out.


And kind heart had nowhere to go,

With the carcass of his straight tongue,

When the Jesus within said.


Fear not my child,

For you’re not as wild,

And your gracious tongue will be understood,

Only by a few,

In these dark and squalid ravines.


So come with me son,

Leaving behind that maligning tongue,

To its audience.


And remember,

What you sow you reap,

And so,

Wait for the day

When the cunning tongue face-offs with a cunning heart.



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