The Power of Black - Poems on Humanity , Social Cause - volume 2

ON-THE-SPOT DEATH-WITHOUT A HELMET.

These were the same hands that compassionately traced his royally new-born smile; till the absolute ends to where it uninhibitedly stretched on
his majestically enamoring face,

These were the same hands that hoisted him high and handsome into free spaces of exhilarated air; joyously reminiscing their very own childhood as they witnessed the most beautiful gift of creation blossoming to its magnificent fullness,

These were the same hands that fervently sorted his favorite dolls and toys; from an inexhaustible marketplace of myriad accessories; strings; fresh gizmos lethargically strewn around,

These were the same hands that perspired into an infinite droplets of ardent sweat; each sweltering day and night under the sky; persevering through boundless lanes of hardships in order to give him the best of life,

These were the same hands that stood like an unflinching fortress; in the way of each pernicious impediment and storm that dared come his innocuously blessed way,

These were the same hands that stringently cleansed even the most unthinkably fetid and decayed of his bowel discharge; an umpteenth time a day; so that he forever rollicked and dreamt in his cradle of eternal happiness,

These were the same hands that mischievously tickled him to countless guffaws of unabashed laughter; stood infallibly like the rock of Gibraltar behind even the weirdest of his childish explorations,

These were the same hands that unwaveringly collected each droplet of his saliva and vomit; unceasingly cajoled and patted his pristine forehead; until he transited into profound celestial sleep,

These were the same hands that held his inconspicuously measly fingers; following him untiringly for an innumerable days and agonizing nights; until he learnt to unconquerably walk,

These were the same hands that taught him to grip a pen; legitimately scribble and write; merrily going through the endless learning motions countless a time; and bearing the most vicious of his rebellious kicks with a smile,

These were the same hands that wiped each tear of inexplicable discomfort that dribbled from his eyes; replacing them and each of his moistened eyelashes with the most victorious pearls of paradise,

These were the same hands that snatched him everytime from the jaws of gory death; as he inadvertently tended to fall into the gorge of extinction; the corpse of uncertainty time after time,

These were the same hands that adroitly guided him through each mangled pathway of inscrutable life; slowly and slowly evolving a sensible youngster out of his blabbering childhood rhetoric,

These were the same hands that perpetually entwined with his in applause and congratulations; everytime he emerged humanitarianly triumphant; amongst a pack of asphyxiating worldly wild wolves,

These were the same hands that matched his exhilarated knuckles punch for punch; as he galloped in the peak of spell-binding youth; trying to wondrously decipher his dreams amidst bits of fantastic blue sky,

These were the same hands that put his palms in the palms of his dreamgirl forever and ever and ever; blessed them both in the threads of invincibly sacrosanct marriage,

These were the same hands that once again played and passionately nourished his offsprings like they'd nurtured him several years ago; now that he'd
turned proud father himself,

And unfortunately these were those very same fatherly hands that now
burnt him on his inconsolable pyre; and then banged themselves into a
mist of thwarted nothingness; as he met with an accident; cracked his
skull which was carelessly without a helmet; and on-the-spot died.