An Anthology Of Verses - Prabhath Avadhanula

The Writer

The charred threads of time grip the neck of the universe
How is it for us to get away?
But dear Day,
Let not night fall upon me so quickly that I have not spoken what I ought to say;
Let not those strands of stitched seconds close their noose
Before I have had time to walk in my own way.
Men have come and gone upon this land,
And most of them for sure I have not known;
But as for me I crave my fabric flown
Like a flag from an eternal throne.
So for me I strive a constant struggle with the word,
So that once my voice has long since faded, it will still be heard;
So that once my voice has long since faded, it will still be heard.