Distant birdsong, chirps and cries, we hear-
Deafening ears, driving people mad
Ravens grip every inch, calling men to listen.
Whats that commotion we hear?
Is danger coming closer?
What do we need to guard ourselves?
Repercussions keep rolling out
Akin to electricity lighting up the world
And the sun, burning forests and wild bushes.
When the noise subsides, I hear music
Silently invading the bustling lanes.
Media and social media are a carnival, sometimes.
Down the hills on the river that flows, a poem lies there, and whatever
That soul of mine reminds me of the lost wanderer
of my thoughts, of the grand memories of my time
with the night-wind, the trees and their lonely presence;
where the sun would rise to the sky now and then.
For the wise said the soul of men will never fall asleep.
And I believe it even now that they fly to the skies often
To meet the Divine and the dearie’s,
And more than the dense forests the secrets they hold may be greater;
And they feed on food from the Heavens.
In my own heart and all my day awake
I see you, as a man born in a fantasy world
Where stones flew; the spirits in a never ending smile
In trees and seas you live, and white clouds..
There the master of many floats.
Your thoughts, cometh through the clouds into the street and beyond,
and I read it as it sets sail
and with a belief that it will never be wrong.
So addictive, the shapes thee maketh for me,
But at weird hours I hear the strange sound of thy hands,
Keep the pace, shall say that little spirit of mine for the fire keeps glowing
And I keep believing.
I will not be lessened amidst the tall and glittering worldly things.
And you all see in me the dying days, the youthful yesterday – the reverse.
She was a menace, you say-
When I walked the thorns, I entered a light, a lovely place to fly and rejoice.
Numb hands move over green branches
Trembling soul shudders – bitter cruelty
Scared, the foliage hides under the meadows
Along with the dust of the deceased – to perish
Beyond evil eyes, the seeds find solace
The day of resurgence, they long for
One by one, the fruits go into hiatus
The green succumbs to the dead touch
Alas, killing every inch of life
The dead hand feels the weak twigs
Resurrection of the prey, the dead craves
Through it he wishes to come back alive
Sinless and blameless past he wishes to create
Consequences force him to resuscitate the kill
The dead is dead, it cannot breathe again
Yet the seed rests somewhere in the wild.
The germinated seeds will catch him, one day
When HE forgives- over the passage of time