The Most Intimate Hope
The Most Intimate Hope
At the farther side of
The pristine landscapes...
Picturesque valleys
Lies the feeble flutter
And roving eyes of life
Catches her..
Demure image live
In her modest hut
Under the thatched roof
She spins dreams
Colours yards of it
In vibrant shades
Paints the picture bright
The old harmonium
In the corner
With its reeds broken
Lies deserted
Like a remote metaphor
Its sealed lips elaborate
Many a tales of shattered hopes
Strands of it ...
Pierce... rip apart
The viscera and core
Her voice...
Smooth as silk
Serene and clear
Resonates through the valley
Ushers ripples in placid water
Her intermittent sobs
With motifs of sigh
Echoes her bond with beats
And makes her
All the more nostalgic
She lives ..
One of her most intimate hopes
That some day..
The spell of
Simmering anger
Will cease
The valley will exude
A fresh lease
Elicit scope for warmth
And there will be reign of peace.