A memory in a crack disc- a thought so disdain ,
A silent fear trickles down with the dripping sweat –
Sometime a voiceless voice stir vigorously- the nervous system.
The crowd- a turmoil, and those impassive faces, cold disorder,
There’s no sign of regret- or returning from formlessness,
Imperceptible acknowledgement of impenetrable A mystery,
The stillness ran into a riot-a massive destruction- a chaos,
Refusal in tone- rather disclosure of an unknown submissiveness,
Such hatred foiled and crafted beautifully- disgraceful and a disposal,
And heart, becomes a receptacle for deceased feelings-
More oft the sky rains- to pour life into lives, to pacify the disorder,
but every time receded-
Softly, and very slowly in terrible anguish, disconcerted-
A terror- a fire ventured in- diminishing all desires from hearts,
And no souls have left salvaging themSelves from straying-
Dispatched in haste-
tremble when passing through treacherous winter,
Icy touch and then solidity, and then shuddering into pieces –
All efforts in tremor.
And then comes in exquisite manner
KaziMustakim_All Rights Reserved © 2013
Fragmented thoughts from my diary . . .