Locked down in a time of disease, death and despair. Is there any hope anywhere to be found? From very deep inside words come out spurting up the fountain of thought. Mind struggles to hush the unwelcomed rhyme, but the soul allows the pen to write, word by word, verse by verse, and a sentence a time. So, the debate between human versus virus; the theists and atheists, believers and non-believers; frontlines change from defense to health. Uniformed soldiers salute the paramedics as messiahs. starts. The poetry erupts and one verse after the other starts to ooze out from the pen that continues to write hysterically. “Was I destined by lord to be an imprisoned man? Then instead of a caged sage, I would prefer to be a beast insane. I a’m anguished by my past,past; I weep over my present. I wish I was never born, or at least was an ignorant. With no relief in sight, and in constant pain, like a naked scorched tree, in a desert, with no rain. The thoughts encircle to sadden me, the misery is enough, to madden me”. The flow of unwelcomed rhyme continues. “I was always alive and never be dead. Better alone than by a diviner being lead. I will definitely be happy and never be in a ruin. I believe no sun, or God of the moon. In hands of mine there is no rosary, no beads. And I do not have a big tome to memories or read. I am a just a personman, and nothing can be revealed on me;. I am just a coincidence as the world can see. There are no clouds or shadows to swathe my eyes, and all dialogues on nature or God are lies. Our faith, our senses and reasons with us, are none but like waves in sea before us. They are shapeless like water and nothing else. Our talk on God is nothing but a guess”. While the thought tries to prevail, another thought turns up and points the finger to the sun on sky. “There is a Sun in Sky and it can’t be a lie. As a star is lost when sun shines on it. For then you see no trace or sign of it. When the sun is up in light of day, there is no sign of star or it’s Milky Way. The stars have no entity in day but they subsist. In day we cannot see but they exist. Then why you say there is no star in sky. They surely are there, but for you it’s a lie. Your senses and your talk and endless discourse, can never encompass the supreme and divine force. The Lord is hidden but his works are not. Surely his works, creations and blessings are a lot. You say there a’re no shadows to swathe cover your eyes, but why you see all works of your Lord as lies? So, you are blind if you cannot ‘t feel your Lord. And certainly dead and better be rotting under the sod. As God made you perfect in every sense, so it is a shame to call yourself a coincidence”. “He believes neither in “ZamZam” nor in any prayer call, nor in a Church’s, Temple’s or a Mosque’s wall. But the only place where he practices his thought, is none other than one’s solemn heart” The debate continues. “Akin to Lord’s lessons of dexterity to weave, to silkworm and the acumen He gifted to bee, which fills its chambers with honey that’s sweet, God opens the door of knowledge to you and me. Why the learning should be beyond my reach? Wasn’t I as the man, taught all “God’s names”? Did not I reach the glory of angels? Then why should I lay low my own fame. Do I soar not high in highest skies? Am I not fed on the milk of faith? Was I not worshipped by angels but Satan? And for this, did he not earn my Lord’s wrath. But why my face lacking semblance of man? Is not my face, the manifestation of divine? Why I lie in shadow and am in despised form? May be, I must be bathed in light to shine. My Soul is lost and seems quite far off, and my eyes are dazzled by false colors. These beautiful colors veil the “Light” from me so I must seek the fragrance, not sham of flowers”. “But what is more exquisite than entrusting to Lord? Bargaining your sight for God’s foresight. In His sight is all that we wish and desire. Isn’t a fair exchange His foresight, for our sight? He who sends forth rain for you. He makes everything within your ability. And He makes all pains bearable by you, He made you a creation of nobility. Be grateful for blessings and see them increase, but ingratitude snatches blessings from hands. You must try and reach the fruit-laden tree, by praying, thanking and bowing on sands. Ah! The ungrateful are all awful. Will they be cast into the fiery trench? May or may not be, yet their wisdom is snatched, and they will live forever in their conceit’s stench”. Now I understand or least am trying to understand. “O ! See my Lord, how I used your gifts, you asked for unity, I worked for the rift. You made the steel and I heated it red. Turned into guns, swords and warheads. You grew green trees and made creatures free. I caged living things and axed all trees. You gave this clay that I turned into a cup, I drink your grapes, which lift me up. I fashioned things from things like sand, and in front of a mirror now I stand. That tells me the words which are true, that all things I did in defiance to you. Whatsoever you made in skies, are far away, and my mind still tries. Still I am not more than a flesh that rots, and you always exist but I do not”. “The faith belongs not to a saint or a sage. It is the gift for one with the reverent gaze. Who preaches virtue and words of Lord, and seeks guidance from mighty God. He is not trained by physical torments. His faith lies not in his patched garments. Neither has it laid in worshipping the dead, nor in his fasting, when he gives up his bread. His faith lies not in praying an image, neither in a crusade nor in a pilgrimage. He worships not the tombs and graves, and cleanses himself not in GANGES waves. He believes neither in “Zam Zam” nor in any prayer call, nor in a Church’s, Temple’s or a Mosque’s wall. But the only place where he practices his thought, is none other than his one’s solemn heart”. Writer is a versatile analyst and a speaker on contemporary issues