Man has fought much

By God.Your lovely daughter who calls you with love papais but a God-gifted rarer gemWhich you have got in her.

Into my wordsTo see you afresh,How do you lookYou,My daughter,You growingWith age and timeWhich is never,Never own!

With the hands foldedTo the Dark ElementAnd brooding aboutNot sure ofSomething conjured uponThe mind’s plane.The Dark LegAnklettedStood beforeAnd thereafter the Dark Divine,The Dark Form of the Motherly Divine,Mother Kali in a Dark Form,The Dark Goddess,The Dark DivineTesting through supernatural presence.

The tales of poverty-stricken livesWhere two-time meals are not available,Clothes are not to cover it all,Lamps burn not to emit lightDuring the night-time?

Just like a carpenterWorking with its tools,The woodpeckerMaking a shrill callAnd peckingWith its beak,Long beakDrilling intoTo bore in a holeTo live in.

In the plane crash?