Centuries of day when
crammed into a single night
it was like a thousand stars
shining for eternity
but time was confused
all those coming together
atrocities, lies, brutal insights
into man’s incompetent self being
the fabricated stories of divinity
progress, morality, love..
it was just too much to handle
it fell apart, stopped, moved
moaned and finally went still
Time the eternal truth was still
slowly imagination and creativity
also succumbed to a natural chorus
with a deep dark voice…
the question that bewildered me most
“where was I when all this happened..?”
-Vinod-

Categories: Poetry