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Arnab Chatterjee's Poems



The entire world screams

nothing stops them—

till roots are shaken,

till the people yell

under the seven heavens. 

Why this effort after all;

why the desire to seize violently,

When the Lord of the cosmos 

still sits and smiles.

That source of all

the master root of all being. 


Those famed drops of sweat

on your brows—

the jubilant shout of the stars

when cosmos rose out of chaos. 


oceans of Grace for worlds

yet to come. 


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