The earth mourns your death, Dear Sir,
Who hath the souls of youngsters stir’d,
With spark of light to dream the dreams
That lets no rest or gives no sleep.
With all our love and respect due
In hours of dusk we look to you
To free our minds off fear and pain
And give us hand and lift us again.
Our Mother cries through million eyes
Detesting the pain of bidding you goodbye,
Though welcome in her earthly womb,
She’ll miss your lively breath in tomb.
Such splendid is your love for her
She wraps you in her Tricolour
With severe passion your deeds you hurl
Our Mother’s saree, with pride, unfurl.
With honour high our heads held though;
With utmost sadness our grief we show-
For the Mighty Mind that read the space
Now lays still, asleep with a silent face.
(That Last Minute…)
And lo! the end of glorious charm-
Our Mother squeezes him tightly in her arm.
Look the epitome of might indeed,
Is laid to rest in the mud, beneath.
The faith departed leaves our shore,
With millions of buds singing his lore.
We leave you, Dear Sir, with an aching heart
And return our home with your dreams to start.
RIP (Return If Possible) People’s Prez.