Where the rays don't glitter anything - howsoever grand,
The sculptures, currencies or even the grains of sand.
Where the creatures commit no shame,
Crimes - you may see,
Crimes - there may be,
Crime just doesn't have a name.
No hope is labelled - there is nothing as fame,
And, every 'other' dream is treated the same,
Euphoria on the air, frowns on the face,
Pleasure, anguish, fear, love - or delicate grace,
Are all subjective - no judgments are made,
Are all subjective - nothing ill or good is said.
Where they don't follow after what the majority has laid.
I dream of sleeping a sleep - every night,
Where you'd never wish or worry of waking up,
There'll be nothing mediocre of bright.
Neither purity, hatred or even love.
Where 'casual' is what you'd call,
To anything pleasant or unthinkably brutal,
No favorites, friends, rise or fall,
All You'd ever feel is - precisely 'neutral'.
I dream of a life, where 'rays of definition' set early east,
And, happiness prevails over the everything that doesn't exist.
- Prashanta Ojha
