THE FLASHING LAMPS
a little bit concern vis-à-vis meeting
to with them who has been left,
behind the scene of festivity
of life, often perception
wakes up from the
grip of the self -
addressed
letter,
on that dilemma, heart pursues the
answers, in a deserted railway
station someone waiting
alone for the missing
link of affinity,
in the mist
of chill
night, the painful dream becomes
the fast train, passes with
rapid speed, in the far-
away it extinct with
leaving the flying
pages of life,
the valise
of hope
remains laying on the platform, the
vibration of rail track gradually
goes down to silent, in the
distant the raising hands
demands the promise
of survival, the real
share of equality,
on the mound
of firearms,
injured
voice
lost the identification, echoes
couldn’t come back to
the origin, the faces
of upheaval were
forced to adopt
the injustice,
as usual
destiny of exploitation flourished in
society, in the pseudo politics
the life has less magnitude,
unseen confine has no
mercy, just the rule
of forest, the
mighty
has all the rights for livelihood,
others have the slavery
fate, self way for
existence - -why?
- SHANTANU SANYALTrain-station-painting- by QUINN AINSLEY
