Wednesday, 27 July 2011

The End

The kite floats —just severed—
Seesawing leisurely
In rhythm of kissing ends,
Of promises and dejections,
Of remembrances and forgetting,
Of reliance and betrayal,
Of pleasures and angst,
Beneath dark eyes of monsoon clouds.

A tiny tail of torn thread twirls
Buttressing with a small memory
Of a bonded past
Of an yearning for freedom
Of a passion to soar high
Of a pride to be in seclusion.

The entity finds a flawless liberation
From a collection fraught with lies
From a society distressed in lust
From a quaint wholeness of wiles
From a perfect choir of vilification.

The kite floats leisurely
In swings of moist breeze
Before it meets the final descend
Far away from a faceless form of humanity—
A brimful deceit of mankind.

No comments:

Post a Comment


For years they have been there--stoically oblivious To the world slipping out of time--caged in the dungeon of Down-shelves in my library...