Sometimes you give me no power, no authority to even work out on a single page of creativity.
For you sense some malignant particles cruising their way in my mind with their soundless steps.
Now that you have separated me from yourself and made me to forget you through your inimitable ways and want to sport with me, I must pretend to be the one who does not whom to approach—struggling to return to you through my humble and inexperienced ways: Giving you the fullest delight.
Then you, out of your infinite love, deemed that enough is enough: I must return back.
You showered your grace which I recognized not and continued to rely on my worldly intellect. You allowed me to try even that.
I advanced a bit (If I can say this), and realized that actually I have caused you some pain out of my foolishness.
Though you are untouchable by both pleasure and pain, I still deem I did something wrong, for, you seem to be unconcerned, which actually is your natural nature.
I feel ashamed and want to hide away in No-God’s land, for I dare not face you.
Unable to find any place without you and to hide this lanky body that you carved out, I return to you with head and eyes bent down.
Create a No-God’s land and let me mete out my punishment by being there and cursing myself; weeping up to the length of drying my eyes.
Or give a touch to shrug off my shame, and instill pure courage to stand before you with tear-filled eyes and lips quivering to start an inexpressible song of thankfulness.