Caress the disfigured syllables gently,
a rain of bullets should not deprive
them from a veil of modesty.
I stand near the tombstones of shadows
in a graveyard of light; seeing voiceless gods
smile from broken mirrors.
Did they bleed faith? I cared not to check.
A delusional existence gone too far-that brought
men raging with guns and children whimpering
in terror together, in a room.
While both of them prayed silently
accepting their unfulfilled destiny.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
I do have a fascination,
with the stars and moon
but what keeps me glued
to the sky
is the crescent
waiting to complete full round,
amidst tinges of white glowing stars
It’s never perfect
or maybe it is not meant to be
though incomplete,
it still draws attention
and tells me
that it is okie to be incomplete,
one day will still stand out
among all the stars
when the sky is clear.
I do dread
the ghostly shadows
flinching and playing
with the mirrors
making faces
a new one every time,
they whisper in the dark
and laugh mockingly
behind my back
I do not get angry though,
they at least show what they are up to
unlike us who do the same,
but pretend to be angels
all the time.
even in the light.
He was lying down alone
watching the celestial beauties
some were burning bright
others were exhausted effigies
a wind blew by him
the petrichor smelled fresh
in a night beautiful as this
he wanted to disappear instead
like a faint whisper
more like a smell
spreading every place
where no one ever dwelt
but alas the truth
that is bitter than the wine
he gulped down the bottle in one go
and forgot every sense of time.
he woke up with a headache
lying on the same ground
dusted off his clothes again
and went happily to his town.
Shadow and light
play alongside
one is dark
and the other is bright
one shows up
and the other hides
one is loved
and the other despised
one lives
and the other one dies.
We all deserve an end
End from Travesty
End from Unknowings
End from unchased dreams
End from failures
End from crowds
End from the false mirrors
And finally end from ourselves
to the bright light
which does not judge
just embraces with open arms.
Writings to Heaven 