Silhouette of Silence

The world, yet again,

experiences predominant moonless heavens.

And the silence in human’s isolation,

unmasks the ill-fate in the face of ravens

Tonight, it is raining

and I landed upon a trance,

and a photomontage of good yesterdays

is what I held in my hands.

‘Twas framed from wood scraps

painted with sunrays and gold.

Yet again,

the world is now moonless, starless and cold,

and the silence is unquiet,

enough for my drums to rip

and I could have been feverish

thinking of all this loneliness.

And, the roads are truly exhausted

of moans and unlovely cries,

from the houses of starving humans

who are caught off-guard,

crippled by fear

from the swarm of viral infection,

and splintered by a society

divided by skin and political colors,

and of the governments’

half-baked provoking laws.

Alas! This silence in isolation,

I want to withdraw.

The world, yet again,

is under the moonless heavens.

Yet the silhouette of silence

has finally glimmered in the rain,

and it outlines a figure

contoured with liberty and hope.

Enough of the farce,

of unquiet silence in this pandemic

-for I now speak, and just did spoke.