The rain had not fallen
since ages on this land.
Water was supposed to be an Alien
and so was the man.
I thought once, to venture this place,
and wonder why the God had created this land !!!,
as he does some foolery, every now and then.
to bring men like me, only to be left abandoned.
I simply walked there accidentally,
with just nothing, but a hope to survive.
I had been torn apart in this world,
not in the east or west I had comfort.
I was weary and I lay on the sand,
tears rained down my cheeks and touched the barren land.
The desert had felt the water for the first time,
and at last I had mental peace, and I peace fully laid.
My breadth was arrested, and cold became my body
the sand gave respect to me to cover this somebody.
There lies afar, from the noisy town,
The poet soul resting in the desert’s arm.
Both were silent and both were left alone,
this melancholy had rendered their heart- a stone.
Both were alone once, but now both sang away their tears,
still if you go now, you will find a fading music in the air.
Both are silent but in stoical peace,
Nothing disturbs them now, except for that occasional breeze.
Which lifts the cover from the poet’s coffin,
And desperately the sands try to cover him, the unknown Sachin,
In the history of time, no will remember the desert or that man,
he was a rebel, a poet, hard to understand.