Visions of a dead man
I am lost, In the drift of souls From the debris of the leftovers of life That lay strewn around on the foot path Of the capital city Or in the burnt ruins of the Symbol of hospitality, In a rival capital. I am one with the drift It is a strange amalgamate of souls, That sing in the name of happiness, souls That rejoice in the name of love, souls That cry in unition at a loss unimaginable. Unable to tear away from the lifeless bodies Unable to see the loss on the faces Of the ones we leave behind. I am on my journey As a soul that hopes To never be born again To live in the divisions Created in the name of Isms In a world that looses its sanity A world that has lost its zest For the Ism of Life. My reaction to the turn of recent terrorist activites in the subcontinent. I love life and cant understand how or why some factions insist on wasting such a lot of it.