a simmering debate that rages daily,
hiding away inside the cocoon,
slowly fades away
in the growing bustle.
this tall glass window
overlooking the misty peaks,
is perhaps the perfect pod
in the dark chilly night.
keys, bank cards, cigarette packets
and a set of notes are on the table,
now all those wooden chairs
do not have any right to opinion.
all pervading silence in its purest form
store in the four blank wall.
The burning eyes peeled though,
rarely provides the answers.
if all this is true and it may well be
then holding the hidden words
under the shadowy light
may not reveal the real story.