Between a calm and a thunder, <br />I amputate my days, from the mediocre life of mindless alienation. <br />I bemoan for sanctity. <br />Man remains innocent of, <br />another man’s melody. <br />I get frightened. <br />Birds are suddenly falling from the sky. <br /> <br />Where the heart denies <br />a heart, a perfect rhythm, <br />mind bares a wound. <br />History does not repeat the truth. <br />Blank shadows break the windows <br />and I collect the ashes, <br />from the burnt plots and ruined homes. <br /> <br />Sometimes you pretend to kill, <br />an argument deliberately <br />to know the depth of the answer. <br />The turmoil of half-being; <br />the unhappiness of fulfillment, <br />the transformation of a death into peace, <br />was it in harmony?<br /><br />Satish Verma<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/half-being/
