Petrichor by Pranati Sankar Banik

And the petrichor of monsoon
Comes from little corpses
Fossilized in the dark gaps
Amid the green grassy pasture.
when they die, the grass flowers,
The unknown tiny worms & ants
Never worry of heaven or hell.
Such self reliant selves worth so much
As their fragrance out of their dead shell.

Rain baptizes them, redeems them too,
Death, a mere occasion, beneath a shoe.

 

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