The fish are very angry, and wish the sun would finally stop, Robbing their already depleted river, drop by evaporating drop, They know not, why their water, is vanishing with a shroud, And then sun cannot tell them, it is
All activities have ceased, but the dust refuses to settle, As if in deference to every hard-working man’s mettle, Sadly the hard work is no longer worth its own sweat, But dust is the only thing these sons of failure
Not long after monsoon bid its last droplet goodbye, Uninvited, unexpectedly, you happened to come by, Looking out for someone, who definitely wasn’t me, Politely reminding me, to not bother, just let you be. But time is a trickster, so
Such a shower, would normally seem out of season, But he had long since stopped searching for reason, He knew not when he lost it, cared not if it lost him, A lot more important things had already left him.
A different language, where letters are unnecessary, One where words are dispensable, a mere accessory, Where every single word is complete in itself, And no sentence is required to express oneself. Where the silence speaks louder than any word, And