Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet
It was impossible to inhale air without twin bifurcation of nostrils,
sustain life with nonchalant ease; for more than an wholesome minute.
it was impossible to walk without angularly sculptured legs,
viciously kick grey boulders of stone; acting as barricade's in unveiling path.
it was impossible to scribble literature without articulate synchronization of hands,
emboss exquisite lines of calligraphy on naked sheets of bond paper.
it was impossible to segregate minuscule threads of color without immaculate vision,
distinguish between the good and gruesomely bad; lurking on this earth.
it was impossible to decimate food into supple chowder; without strong teeth,
produce gregarious smiles in tandem; when frivolously appreciated.
it was impossible to secrete saliva without rosy pink organ of tongue,
rebuke people with loads of spit; in response to their uncouth deeds.
it was impossible to uproot concrete edifices with bare hands,
amalgamate sapphire arenas of sky with the periphery of monotonous earth.
it was impossible to operate the hi-tech computer without a plethora of
software chips,
type a battalion of literature at swashbuckling speeds.
it was impossible to quench thirst without gallons of fresh water,
assassinate intractable blotches of dirt; agglutinated to clean cloth.
it was impossible to die without abrupt closure of tangible heart beat,
infinite cells of animation; freezing in the body.
and it was impossible to live without loving a person in heart; body; and spirit,
dedicating marathon hours in life; harnessing that perpetual affinity.
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It Was Impossible
It Was Impossible
