Nameless
More than an anonymous, I find me faceless.
Fallen prey to the predators of world concerns
Life has gone baseless, and my face has gone graceless.
Owing to the inner blaze, there are facial burns.
The physical crowd that is seen may not matter.
Crowds of thorny bushes within seem to pierce me.
Drizzles of restlessness, often pitter-patter
Whims and fancies seem to be just an untrue glee.
Like bubbles that shine and go, or like the rainbow
Existence seems tentative. Why care for a name?
Leaving this mundane earth when one happens to go
Does he or she carry his or her well-earned fame?
May namelessness, herein, not be my worry.
It's towards eternity; I'm in a hurry...
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