English Poem–Lord, it is time

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Standing on the 9th floor of a big corporate building, eagle-eyeing an area of around 20 Km through a somewhat dirty glass of a door, I feel watching a giant screen.

The diesel generators powering the whole electric system, manned electric-lifts moving up-and-down, and the queued car-line at the ground answer the ‘what is around you?’ question.

A gentleman sips a cup of coffee while a security guard sits silently on a stool leaning his back against the wall.

I see various versions of computers, different types of furniture, and a lot of glass-work mischievously troubling with an inducing sense of consciousness as if somebody is always observing me.

I come down to the ground-floor and enter the cafeteria where I order a cup of tea.

Flipping over the pages of the newspaper, and peeping through the window-pane, I observe a lot of vehicles moving on the highway.

Two boys, carrying their backpacks, leave the campus of their college while two others try their hands on a sandy-ground of basketball.

I seem to be undergoing all the things in a very different way as if I am not a part of it.

This state is peaceful but has an eerie ambience around it. It is calm but still lacks the perennial stream of bliss that absorbs one into oneself.

It wants to be all-alone but still pines for the presence.

Lord, it is time…

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