The tired answers
To well-worn questions
Some misdirected efforts
A few forgotten equations
Those masks on faces
Those veils on intentions
And, somewhere far away
As though in another universe
The smoke that rises
From the smouldering embers
Of the corpses of uprooted dreams
Wrings drops of moisture
From these blood-shot eyes
So that people think
I am once again immersed
In the pain of the past
But, in this half-extinguished heart
A self-effacing dream still hides
The hope that she would sweep veil-less
Into this chamber of loneliness still abides
Covered by clouds, perhaps
But, in the sky a glorious moon still resides
No comments:
Post a Comment