In the Chariot of Time

IN THE CHARIOT OF TIME Not much is left behind The last louse has crept out Of my diseased body. From the house of death Frozen blood left estranged No more dreams- Clotted blood transfigured Into a mural painting. A groan choked deep in throat Anklets of death chirping madly Glittering sword swinging- You ask Why am I mute ? Racing blood vessels Slips into deep sleep Tender shoots of dreams Burnt into ashes In hot sun. No answer, convincing Oh! Goddess, Mother Pluck out eyes that tend to dream In deep mourning struggled path Eyes have no role to play.