Lost Generation

When reality walks with treachery,
In the darkest hour before dawn,
Naivety is mocked, innocence dies,
The lion sleeps with the fawn.

When beauty is nothing tangible,
But a shadowed flowing form,
When worship is nothing but a word,
A crown made up of thorns.

Sing to me, my precious one,
Songs of love and praise,
Empty words from an empty heart,
Echoing from an empty face.

With only mind fires burning bright,
Through vacant sockets a glow,
Memories return, come to stay,
An urge, which refuses to go.

Thoughts tremble on the brink of want,
A mourning that never ends,
Pearls that flow forever,
Each sphere a luster lends.

The shine of a thousand strands,
Upon nostalgias neck they gleam,
Rest your head on melancholy,
Close those eyes now dream.

Cling to what ever it was,
That made you feel so whole,
Believe the whispered half-truths,
Discover what was stole.

Let them hold you awhile,
Be your companions in grief,
Hold you in their arms tonight,
For only, a moment brief.

~Sujata~

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