The scar-borne wounded sword,
Rise in protest against fleeting love,
Drunk on blood, man,on it has poured,
Death escapes, caging the dove.
The barren sky,attired in black,
Mourning the souls' demise,
The night frightened,still on it's track,
The silence,choking on it's silent cries.
When love is the harbinger of death,
Life suffocates in it's own strain,
Joy,heaves laboured breath,
Pain sings,earth joins in for the refrain.
The trees huddled in their shadows,
Dropping a shady veil in my yard,
Light flees over vales and meadows,
It trembles,a forgotten ray,a sliver,a shard.
My parched tongue,tastes the silent verses,
Looming large,the shadow of my sorrow,
Who,(and why) do I call to break these curses,
To shovel this stygian gloom,enveloping my morrow?
Chandni
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