In a sleepless night of March,
I was looking into the dark,
Blunt hopes and aspirations of my past,
Had burnt my self into thin ashes.
An uncanny lake of desire and reverie,
And a land of mighty storm,
I saw a glimpse of benevolent souls,
In the quietude of that graveyard.
The dark cloud of greed and pride,
And prejudices of mourning minds,
Everything looks so dead and still,
The haze of hatred makes it vague.
Upon all these malignant thoughts,
A heart with truth strives to live,
In this huge, bellicose world,
Staunch men are often ignored.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment