Birth of Mirth

The quest for joy begins like a dawn chorus,
Frisking the soul,
Searching through the world,
For joy finds no thesaurus.
Bereaved like a river without flow,
Forgotten merry moments …,
Dissolution led to a dismal blow,
One’s own world has not awaken yet,
Peeping into has not succeeded yet.
Obscurity has caused disparity,
Between heart and the soul.
Time has its own boundations,
In the diluting glance of a gloomy past,
Morose rules over the present elations.
A stingy mind runs into its prime,
Heart grieves over other’s shine.
The destined journey has lost its way,
The purpose of life is far away.
The mind reckons a scarce love,
Cannot spot it amongst love,
Bereft of ‘”best” defaces the “worst”,
The heart senses a thirst for love.
Dying for portrayed affection,
Leading an unreal life,
Overseeing a true harmony,
Paving way for an unfriendly life.
Abundant joy is not seen,
The soul continues its debacle,
Betrayed by disguised lovers,
Hoping for a worthy miracle.
Birth of Mirth was not celebrated,
An ignorant mind got past it,
Realism has its own way,
Look into, peep into,
Mirth comes a steady way.
The quest for joy began with mirth.
Your birth was the birth of mirth.
By Kshitij Bansal