If this is a dream without being asleep
Reality that ceases to exist; is not true anymore
Can’t be touched or felt,
But inquired in imaginations
Why is the body so tamed?
Afraid to knock on the closed doors
There’s fragility and palpitations
Snatching away dreams that are available
Unwilling to share; an unholy plot
To monitor the thoughts
Every possible mind plugged to a network
Gardens and paradise are but poets’ words
Poor fragrances are hopeless imitation
Something which seems to be true
But this sleep is controversial
Yearning for that comfortable slumber
Dreams real, and not desperate
Without stalking life
For once, appreciate the freedom
~Amitav
Amitav Chowdhury 