Stars paint the expanse, a polka-dotted midnight blue
Clouds crowd the sky, velvet curtains to a world unknown
Cool sands rub against my feet, rippling waves of peace within
Gusts of wind leave a faint imprint,
The longing for something words can't fathom
Profound and deep; yet, simple and sweet.
Imagine a world that loves,
Nary an alarm to awaken the essence that rings true
A world that cares, where fear doesn't dictate every step we take
A world that shares, where reluctance does not hold a space
Where the world cries along for the sorrow of the little one,
Indifference deemed a poison, never unstoppered.
Alas, the sky reflects the misery abound,
Pitter-patters evolve into sheets,
Rain soaks the skirt but, a parched heart remains
The world of my dreams is a far cry
From the reality that screams,
Drowning out any hopes of good days to come,
Just as a cold burst of wind erases the footprints of yore.
How could that world ever worship kindness,
When snowy apathy sullies their eyes
No homeless child nor a hungry mother,
A broken limb nor a faded will
There's no cure for the drought of empathy,
Greed is the goddess, and its needs form the prayers.
A million lives fade away, families burnt and their kins starved,
Hospitals bombed and peace-keepers shot
But all is fair, don't they say?
All is fair in love and war,
Even if the war is waged on helpless hearts,
"Oh, they might have been the successors of terror."
The world still moves to the music of morrow,
Empathy is but an elusive elixir,
Love is a liability, the shields torn asunder
To extend hands is to fear their maim
The constant wails of siren echo the cries,
Being human is a privilege to be had.
Midnight-blue paves the way for a dismal grey morn,
The seams of my sack barely hold their own,
Walking along the shore with dread
As another day arrives,
In a world painted with muted tones,
Streaks of nonchalance woven with despair.
YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PoetryJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them
