Poetry

Living the moment 
without participation. 
Not accepting the liberation. 
I will call you when 
earth starts weeping. 
 
Someone lights a match 
in dark, to see the rim 
of black hole. A 
suspension bridge hangs 
between the tunnel of lies. 
 
The uncertain tomorrow 
and truncated present. 
The life breaks the relationship 
between fire and rain. Now 
you invoke the black cloud. 
 
The mania. You are shoved 
on the tracks before incoming 
electric wheels. This was 
democracy on move pushing 
the entrails out.