Something doesn’t start by now
Struck by the sudden stillness,
Evening instills a sense of betrayal.
You can see, sense and even smell a bit …
The trees are nothing but rows of silence,
Keeping mum, are most of us any different?
The gentle breeze duping insecure mind,
Behind clouds the celestial doors remain
Open in the vast sky, get to each other,
through various tiny snapshots
Expose and reveal the wisdom of years,
Our leaps are sealed, no qualms of protection,
Or cover up things in a hushed whisper.
Often guilty, turn a blind eye, sink into deep.