I was feeling happy,
When they were closing me behind bars for
I knew that whatever I knew and did,
And was doing,
Was good for my people,
And I call them my for
They knew me and my shadow,
For it shaded and healed the poor…
I was laughing on their questions,
Which they asked me,
While making,
Bruises and cuts and marks
On every inch of my frail body.
My blood flowed like water,
On the marble and trailed like
A cobra whose poison is much sweeter,
Than the cruel looks and words of the man standing in front of me.
I knew and did what was right,
And I was doing it for my people
I call them my for
They understood my words that fell from the stars,
Something enlightening and something soothing,
To their wounded and bleeding hearts…
I was burning with rage when they offered me
The dirtiest and yet the most sought thing
And which could do much good for the vile people.
And yet I didn’t accept it for
I knew my people and they knew me,
And together we knew that
Even beyond money there is something called God
I had faith which my people also had,
But were unable to show out of fear.
As the cruel, heartless Satan tribe
instilled poison in my people’s heart.
Here there and everywhere,
I call them my for
They loved me even when I was away from their life.
They backed me when I trembled,
And were backed by me at the time of need…
I was praying when,
They were hanging me for
What I did was right and my people knew it.
Right then, there.
I would be grateful to my people,
If they understood my words and
If they understood with me my true intent.
Because I was doing,
What was right for everyone.
My people knew my shadow for
Even it supported me from my back
And didn’t leave them even after I died…
I still call them my for
They knew everything but were afraid to show it.
Once they were backed by me
And now I am sure
They would back themselves with my shadow……………………
Random Musings of a Dilettante 