Elder’s words


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Gaping through the darkness,

Guided by the dim lit moonlight hue;

Enchained and isolated in solemn solidarity,

On the crossroads,

Of traditions, old and new.


I knew where to begin,

 But I know not,    

Where is the end!

But for the elder’s content;

To like the aims they chose,

I tried hard to pretend.

I worked hard,

Day and night;

Through the hours,

Past the overtime.


For every penny I earned,

With an ounce of happiness I paid;

So by the time I had success,

I rather lamented on following,

What the elders said.


 But now, it’s too late!

For the elders have gone,

And their words have faded;

Leaving me stuck with wads of notes,


For the happiness which I traded.


                                  –Ishaan Phukan


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