Sunday, November 25, 2007


There she is, a red spot on a moor of grey
I see her through the blood stained glass
The city lies in ruins, innocence fails its prey
Stones are hurled; some even kiss the cherubic lass

There he is, a rocket scientist in communist Russia
Never has he smelled the rose, never would he
For a bullet was to pierce his eye, replace it
The romantic moment was to escape him like always

The snow flakes wait; anticipation carries them
Cold feet, hard hearts; they walk towards each other
The trees convoke to whisper a secret
The eyes; they have no sympathy, they blush with admiration

My hands are numb; my soul lacks its opinion
I guess there is nothing to choose among 'them'
A few moments and 'they' fly across the universe, if they dare
My ears ache for the gunshot, eyes envisage the release


What could I pay for your innocence; you repudiate pride
What could I write, you’ll burn my letters
What could I play, you’ve forgotten the hymns
What could I give, you’ve savoured the world

Into the sun I look, I know you look back
I throw pebbles at you; at least I can touch you
Every face talks, as if you speak to me
Every flower blooms as if you reach out

I sing to you, my echo resonates
I scream to you, and you thunder
You allow the rain on me to hide my tears
I have a friend I believe, who doesn’t say much

Every morning, you are my diamond
You are my liaison, my hope at night
You are my cinema, my airplane
You are the window in my prison cell