Often I present my bosom to the Moon
Finding it exhausted while bricking its castle
from the fractured comet’s dust
I mute down the loud bongs of my clock
To ear patiently the story of a solitary flower
And roofless, I, always try to shelter the night
When from the ruthless sun its luminance is robbed
To let the Nature know
It is no more alone:
I too have been brutally bruised
by unreciprocated sympathy, prolonged silences
And questions never answered
But nothing is replied….!!!
Ripple back a hollow emptiness to my sight
Like the cold people of the Earth
Either it does not want to see the agony in me
Or it does not want my arm, nor my imperfect being
Paras Ali/2017
Finding it exhausted while bricking its castle
from the fractured comet’s dust
I mute down the loud bongs of my clock
To ear patiently the story of a solitary flower
And roofless, I, always try to shelter the night
When from the ruthless sun its luminance is robbed
To let the Nature know
It is no more alone:
I too have been brutally bruised
by unreciprocated sympathy, prolonged silences
And questions never answered
But nothing is replied….!!!
Ripple back a hollow emptiness to my sight
Like the cold people of the Earth
Either it does not want to see the agony in me
Or it does not want my arm, nor my imperfect being
Paras Ali/2017
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