Sky

SKY It slides down silently From the naked branches of tree Hanging bats of shadow And creeps incessantly In the barren alleys When the hearsay of the sun crosses The western sky From the womb of the horizon From bamboo grooves From the meeting halls of villages From running sewerage From balconies From bungalows From palaces From castles There sprout numerous streamlets Of stinking vices And immense wings of darkness Interweaving itself Make a hefty nest On the blunt conscience of population Where numerous tongues of desire Getting algebraically multiplied Every day in comparison to the last Put a garland of upheaval In the neck of silence And there accumulate Thousands years of old benevolence Heritage of customs And worn out dreams Sparkles attached with gut And taking fire in its gall Slowly and steadily Sky begins to shut in hut