METROPOLIS

METROPOLIS
Between my two arms I hold the reflection of a mini world,
That reverberate through me every moment;
A collage of a lights whizzing, sounds humming and souls brushing my skin.
A scenario of utter commotion dilutes this world of mine,
So I hold it in my arms….

Sitting in a place where mundaneness is the theme to comprehend,
Striking hammers, boisterous shades are the bits of truth,
From somewhere below the surface I hear a harp,
Playing a tune of wild, preaching a mournful divorce.

It speaks of a flamboyant fortified wall, never dared to be conquered,
Yet inside the gates the wall gets injured by dark naily scratches,
For eternity these marks will remain.
It speaks of a light that once lit in the midst of darkness,
A light of fire soon to be extinguished by the cyan tides,
Tides that can be already seen if you can climb,
Not very far away….

It tells the story of foggy, shadowy lanes,
Vividly coloured by lights that struggle to burn on.
Of lakes and oceans that lay dry,
Never washed by rivers,
Ladders that broke by each step,
Injured by thudding feet,
And faithless spirits....

My arms get wearied by the load that adds since it has flourished,
I arise from the depths, dissolving into the surface.......