Poetry

Visibility was poor when he pursued 
the face, face of himself. 
The eyes, quizzical eyes, looking at the image 
of cogitating mind, who had left the body. 
 
Condemned to think, think ceaselessly 
for a long time, for the election of truth, 
what we deserve, Violence was within us, 
rage was ensconced 
in our veins. 
 
And we were destroying the beautiful dawn. 
Trials of shadows had begun 
and execution of innocent marvels started, 
which continued till the dark hour. 
Then he had the premonition. 
 
Dirt will prevail now. Coarse banners 
were recalling the candles 
from the homes. Future was collecting 
thousand of dark memories and time 
had stopped in its tracks.