Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet


I stood for marathon hours under the blistering Sun; accomplishing a battalion


of tasks with the arid breeze slapping my cheek, 


When I came back home; I instantly pacified my insatiable thirst consuming a


glass of cold water.


 


I ran long distances on a track of consolidated mud; with pumped exuberance


bursting through my fragile muscles, 


Infinite strands of my hair engulfed by golden sweat; I then submerged my


forehead in a glass of water to rejuvenate my pulsating temples.


 


I clambered up steep slopes of the mountain using the full power of my wrists; 


with a crunching sound emanating from my bones, 


As an inevitable aftermath; I swooned on the ground midway in exhaustion; 


opened my eyes the instant I was sprinkled with a glass of water.


 


I rolled ecstatically in a curry of voluptuously wet mud; incorporating my


demeanor with streaks of brown blended with abashing black, 


Poured a glass of water with vigorous tenacity on the same; to get rid of the


disdainful dirt.


 


I lay unconscious on the ground; after diligently fasting all day; exhaling


shallow gasps of breath at intermittent intervals; 


Displayed the first signs of recovery; after a glass of water was meticulously


impregnated in my body.


 


My voice sounded pungently shrill and hoarse simultaneously; with blurred


notes of music diffusing when I sang, 


Although I was cheered with boisterous claps; received a plethora of


accolades; when I opened my mouth after drinking a glass of water.


 


Streams of blood oozed profusely from my wounds; as I lay on the road after a


ghastly accident, 


The flow however ceased dramatically; after I drenched my bruise in a glass of


water.


 


I wrote unrelentingly under the dim light of the bulb; with my dainty fingers


tiring as a manifestation of the onerous effort, 


However my hands were as fit as to decimate a brick wall; after revitalizing


them with a glass of water.


 


I lived my life in penurious circumstances; with meager emoluments of affluence to my credit, 


However to all who visited my dilapidated dwelling; I never failed to offer a glass of water; gratifying their thirst; prompting them to shower blessings on my  impoverished soul.


 


I commenced my day in brilliant sunlight consuming it with relish; imparting


radiant tenacity to my silhouette, 


Retired for the night uttering a silent thanks to the Creator for all the goodness he created; admiring the richness embossed in that innocuous looking glass of 


warm water.



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A Glass Of Water

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