by Rishabh Daga
Sleeping in a cold bed, Thinking of nothing.
A boy dreamed of a world, A world just about to start.
Rite of Passage came, Gatherings were formed.
Hope stayed with fire, smoke and company.
Personality Moulded, Intoxicants Digested.
Heartbeat Steadied, The Mercers Examined.
Some passed a bit early, Others passed a bit late.
Some passed with hope, Others passed with dread.
The world changed a bit.
Results were forgotten, But not completely.
Grudges were formed, But not wholeheartedly.
Ambitious came forward, But not perfectly.
Paladin was formed, Based out of Dubnium.
Next came the Quintuple, Amalgamating into One.
Lessons were taught, The baton transferred.
Old faces were remembered, Intoxicants abound.
Conflicts were faced, Priorities varied.
The annual question was asked, The world thrummed.
The elder ones came forward,
Some suggested, Some argued, Some just enjoyed the end.
The younger ones, Though a bit less reactive, Took up responsibility Nonetheless.
With only half a dream dreamt, Hope woke the boy up.
Because for now, Half a dream would do.
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About The Poet: The poet lives in the intersection of Words, People, Philosophy, Chess and Chaos. Rishabh Daga was born in Gujarat and brought up in Gujarat, Haryana, Delhi and Maharashtra. He is 22 years old, pursuing his MBA from IIFT Delhi. His favourite book is The Name of the wind, favourite opening is Sicilian and favourite quote is by Anais Nin — ‘We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.’Half a dream would do."