Time

Miles of dejection,over the desert vain,
Grovel,fettered to the vile sand,forsaken,
Abandoned by morning mist and showers,
Embedded in the thorny green,not bowers.

Sorrow abounds-no curse,no longer a bane,
Muted eyes,speak of no pain,no tears they rain,
Thoughts,like scattered clouds in the mind wander,
Infertile,conceive no words and over no song ponder.

The soul,a wretched bird,born to die wingless and caged,
The heart languishes with beats frail, and a bearing staid,
The gaze scanning the blue and fixed on the distant horizon,
Deciphers the dark,oblivious of the glow of the dawning morn.

Nothing escapes the eyes but not the sight; and the heart,
Feels not the Artist,manifested in His works of Heavenly Art.
But then, when the icy winds rise and in the earth swirl,
A heart rending sob escapes,before,around the voice they curl.

When the night,with its darkness,unnoticed, in it is slipping
When the stars twinkle and in the glory of the moon basking,
When the maturing darkness is growing healthy and wise,
Sleep grows sleepless, distant are dreams for barren eyes!

The spirit of silence, touched to the quiet core
At the unmoving waves,severed from the  shore,
Pleads with time to set the pace,
For life to run through the stillness,in an eternal race.

The Sun lets the winter chill flourish and reign,
Bidding his time to thaw,the life,frozen,
A drop of it,one at a time into the stillness seep,
And arouse the land from a slumber deep.

 Then  the fields turn lush green and then yellow,
The ponds filled to the brim,deep,no longer shallow,
The rain washed planet glistens and sparkles bright,
All gloom,and shadow hidden behind a fluorescent light.

                                                                                        Chandni .