(For Syed Mustaq Murshed)
None can mistake you
Even when you are in a crowd
Your stature and air
Are above and beyond the low bowing herd
The towering Titan
Amongst the cowering dwarfs.
Never in need of power, patronage or friends
To prop up a sagging self
You stand self-assured
In your self-sufficing loneliness.
Whenever those non-entity nobodies
Have nibbled you from behind
You have ignored them in regal elegance
Going your own way with an easy grace.
Those scars on your face
Are but marks of conquests
Not to be covered in shame.
In your exclusive taste
You played your last symphony
Not being sure if you have not failed
It may find some applauding ears
When yours will have become deaf.