The wasteland is yet to turn green

The wasteland is yet to turn green

I wait
Not for the untamed tempest to hold back
Not for the imperial sun to shine
Not for the barren desolate region to smile

Desperate was the valley to shed its foliage
Mocking at me
At my state of anguished loneliness
Laughing at my precarious existence

Why is the flourishing blossom dried?
Why are the lively leaves blistered?
Why is the grass golden and
Why the populous mountain desolate.

How could the nature look so unusual?
I contemplated on my wretched state
My thoughts are now an alien
Hovering like a scavenger on my feelings

Turning me into a living dead
How can I depart?
For I have lost my heart
To a soul so heartless

They say every cloud has a silver lining
But my clouded heart sees no silver
For the painted strokes are all colorless
The wasteland is yet to turn green

Catastrophe

Catastrophe


I felt it was a smile but it turned to be a frown
I felt it was a breeze but it turned to be a storm
I felt it was pleasure but it turned to be pain
I felt it was an accident but it turned to be designed
I felt it was affection but it turned to be love

The Crematorium

The Crematorium

I speculate, where the world begin and end
On what is the real game composed
I gaze at the glories and glimpses of the human civilization
There a corpse move towards a journey
Liberation or resurrection -is unknown yet
Definitely a long awaited resting place
A place where every soul heals and prepares
For its first holy communion

Passing thought

    

You never noticed my tears because you met me when I was drenched with rain water tripling from head to toe. This had happened a number of times and it was never a coincidence but the fact is that I never waited for the storm to pass but I had learnt how to dance in the rain.