The Pilgrimage

a poem by Obaidur Rahman, Bangladesh

When the night falls, I hear whispers into my ear
And with the tragic of the hour, sadness turns into fear
All these desperate seasons of aching calls…..
And the darkness echoed only fear,
I was lost in the pages of civic heist
Everything was so loud, if not so clear.


I’m still lost yet I know who I’m, and it’s nothing less of a wonder,
In the midst of right and wrong, holy and unholy
Times are filled with blunder.
Some say, ignorance is bliss, wisdom is a curse
And consciousness is a struck of thunder,
But all shall fade away when the night falls
Behold and reborn, once you are in six feet under.


Friends with the light, powered by the might
I roam into my luminous,
The delight of distance ushers my harmony
And my pilgrimage to the exodus,
Out of the wrath of spell, I know the light will prevail
And I’ll rule my realm of wondrous.


(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012.

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