Terminal Gate

Frightening silence pervaded Swelling of ground due to mounds here and there A tree adjacent the gate with a GHOSTLY stature Unfurling a dark blanket by its broad canopy Even birds don’t like to perch in the GODFORSAKEN place. Except the bulging- eyed owl A silent witness for GRIEF-STRICKEN hearts The fibre art of GOSSAMER aglow in the sunlight Floating gently like sailcloth On the gates, they’re like murals of pinwheel flowers. When the silk threads shudder, A sudden flash appears like an innocent baby’s smile No gusts or downpours can annihilate it. The gates are half-shut. When they are fully opened, Macabre music of GROANING erupts from the coarsened hinges. Scent of geosmin from a freshly dug GRAVE The tired soul along with the retired corpse Comes again through the terminal gate.