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
Copyright © Sourabh Singh | Year Posted 2016
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