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No certificate
Every age is a surprise
Ambushing the previous.
Sudden home for soul babies,
Childhood's universe of illusions,
Awkward bodies for teens,
And youth's hurly-burly chaos.
Mid-life materialism, struggles,
And finally, like mine, incline's
Decline, slow or not, hopeless,
So all alone.

What's there then? Tell me.
I'm still waiting for an answer.
Pigs could have had wings.
I could've been a 7th century lizard.
Imponderables stare at me
Without form, without grace.
Our science tool-kit leaves me cold,
Chilled, unidentified, numb.
I will not sign any certificate
Before i'm gone.


© Sanjib Basu