Tuesday, February 27, 2007 by Indrajit
Barren lies the road, empty, solitary; so lies one Soul Accursed,
Silence adorns miles and miles, Longer breathes the Lonely Sighs,
Forgets the fickle world Me , you and all:when the stage is dispersed,
For whom, then O, peevish Loner, your sunken pair of eye Cries..
Sunburnt roads , burning the soul, charring the Dreams to despair,
Wretched soul looks around, Hapless, Even His Shadow's not Near !
Betrayed Bliss lost, lost to the land where reposes the Serene, and tranquil,
The Time, when the Sunburnt grass's touch made many an agony Heal--
Then sorrows were there-Even now the sorrowful sonatas sniff the Soul they bear,
Even now, the crude crasiness of destiny plays foul guiding to lands of Quagmire,
BUT TheN-the sunburnt grasses had sketches and mirages of the figures Drawn for A loner,
Gone they are-the Angels and the Guardians ,in" flowing tears of past "they seem to Disappear..
The Road today is barren , gust of winds burns the pain entwined in every Vein,
Rusty, dishevelled walks the Loner, bearing scars of The abrupt Weather's Bane..
Freting with thirst, maimed by life's loathe, He waits for The First Drop of Rain,,
It'll come--he knows. he soaks in this hope, in sun's scorching rays of Disdain..
Yes, He'll see them, and his shadow will be back, and the soul once again Breathe to Life..
But 'The One Drop Of Tear', he's kept safe, perhaps....would loose by then in the "Huge Strife."