In the night
come out these flying flies
out of the fissures of the doors
like Isis from the tree of life
only the tree is now but a piece of wood
eaten away by mites over the time.
The flies, not able to see the moon
dance around bulbs & tubelights
for a while, an hour or two.
Trying to find "something".
Search desperately till they live.
Then suddenly they disappear.
Like dead bodies they fall
creating a graveyard of filth
yet failed to find the "thing".
But I see them everyday
without any intention to kill
Day after day they come and go
Out of the fissure
And into the soil.
While I just lay there
in the dark getting older by day
See millions of lives perish
in front of my eyes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment