The Tale of Two Brothers

A Poem by Pranav

Its a poem about life and its implications to men from different strata of the society.

Borne in a casket, nature crafted
waking from slumber, that gods bequeath
learning to emote, with a wailing glee
innocence locked in perilous youth,
all the same, under the eye of one,
alas, not to the eyes of green,

The visage of fate beckons,
painting a picture of visceral hue,

reared one is, with many of his kind
promised he is with knowledge and dime,
from parchments, with lies abound
his cheery demeanor molded to mirthless disdain,
surrendered to time, he forever shall be,
his past, present, future a carousel affair,
relinquishing his health for a blessed future,
with a forlorn breath, buries a cursed past,
pacing away at the gates of death, realizes
life was nothing but an endless myth, vast,

Borne in a casket, man crafted,
lays to waste an interruption, at long last,
rejoins his slumber, bequeathed from the gods.

forgotten not to be the other one is, reminds
us dutifully the looming arm of fate, does
pointing us down a pitless hole,
abandon all hope, if we are to follow,
painted against a sky so brown,
are herds and herds of people, hollow,
but alas, with no shepherd to follow,
in the distance looms the red ocean,
whose tides driven, by who but the previous one,
surrender to the tide our second shall,
forever a wreck caught in a tumultuous affair,
toss his limbs in every mile, he sweats blood,
to stuff his rumbling insides with bread,
but in this hell, he sculpts himself,
forging a stony shell upon his body, galore,
gain in health, footing he lost in his soul, he does
slyly prowls time, to seek its second victim,
impervious to its chime, he is now fully realized,
for he seeks no riches, but only the night
gets his wish, he discovers the ever-sought rest,
finding peace, and tranquility amidst these murky banks.
Finally death comes to knock on his door,
finding it open instead.

Borne in a casket, man crafted,
lays to waste an interruption , at long last,
rejoins his slumber, bequeathed from the gods.

Now both lay wake in an eternal slumber,
both the same under the eye of the one,
both the same to the eyes of green.

Fate looms at the hands of time,
he asks
"One conquered thy, another was blessed, mine,
but answered the question of life, nigh, why?"

Time clicks,
"If together, answered the question of life, they might."