WHISPERS IN THE WIND

Who are we ?
But a tragic slight.
Us philosophers of
posthumous insight.
Preachers by day,
poets by night.

For whom posterity will
hold no mention.
Living lives
beyond comprehension.
Us blind men lost
in a world of light.
A broken arrow in aimless flight.

Wayfarers in a world
of the manic and the mindless.
The lost, the lonely
the killers and the kindless.
The dreamers, the grievers,
the lovers and the believers.

Those we have loved,
remembered, and care for still.
They have destroyed our hope
and vanquished our will.
Why for is this
accursed history repeated?!
To love, to serve, to cherish,
is that not duty completed?

Alas.
The fog has descended,
It will now never lift.
At least the hope has ended,
Perhaps, there is no greater gift.
Nor will be.
For the damned never see happiness
Nor will we.

Such is truth.
Pure and simple,
Beyond all reckoning.
We who have found it
steeled in courage
For the night now beckoning.

Arise the moon, in melancholy thought,
reflects upon, the remains of the day.
The stars for all the
lessons they have taught,
have now, not a word left to say.
This world of blazing colour
has come to naught.
Its brilliance shadowed
in shades of gray.

You, whom we loved
And supported.
Wiped the tears,
to your happiness, devoted.
Fear not,
You, we will not hate.
Your indifference our misery.
But to love you our fate.


So as the flowers weep
in tears of dew.
Upon blades of grass,
sparkling anew.
We are now gone,
But our souls remain still
Loving you
And will,
Forever.

~Rishabh  Gulati~

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