Unaware of the pulse of that intelligence
That we are born from; forgotten over feuds
Walking over futility of creating realities
Consciousness of lesser understanding
Implodes with superficial knowledge
Everyone tries to shape that elusive truth
But all that is there is debris of errors
Throwing away reality in sea of deceit
Only so much we can take from existence
Perceptions weaken through eras
Constant dissent against the soul
Times spent on myriad distractions
Arguments with life and discord
Pulse of life loses its rhythm
That twisted staircase stares quizzically
~Amitav
Amitav Chowdhury 