Setara bibi under the lamp post - Literature - observerbd.com : The glittering city aroundLife is rich with red, blue light of neonWide sky over the headPieces of moonlight, scatteredAnd in that splashed pieces of meteorThose are taken by the scientists of NASASo height the civilization reachesThis city is the flow of happiness nowSome men like us pass the wayWith frustration
The story is stepping up. We were trembling. Our lives
became shaky. We failed. Then succeeded. We lost. Then found. We exhausted.
Then recharged. We loved. Then quarrel. But we never hate our lives. We all
know there is a man behind the scenes.
Every family has such a scenario. Everywhere there is a
god of small things. We had a god in our small family. The god massacred us in
her own way. We destroyed. We damaged. We terminated. We perished. We revived
ourselves by the grace of Allah.
We had no hope. We have no place in the earth where we can
hide. We just survived. We brought up miserably. But by the mercy of Allah we
never acted miserably. We had to keep up the pace. We had to have our faith. We
were pleased that we did not become vanished. We were the blessed subordinates
of almighty.
We, at least, became vibrant. We chased the storm. We
overcome the situation. We looked at the sunrise. We salute the setting sun. We
embrace the nights. We became the harbinger. We planted trees. We made gardens.
We played. We ran. We ate. We chat. We became successful. We made history. The
god astonished. She had nothing to do.
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