A taciturn rose,
Stood silent on a sombre night.
As the sodium vapours,
Spent their light,
A late night crow,
cawed- who knows why?
Potted plants and their restricted glory-
The air is too fumed,
the ground is too dry or in a watery deluge.
The new high street lights-
They scare my pet ghosts and
They throw staccato shadows.
The silence of two 'o clock,
I stand at a window
With criss-crossing grills-
I wonder if everything,
Would forever remain this still.
The ambivalent silence passes on,
An approaching car, labours fraught.
This city, that seems to never old,
Expect in quarters where its wisdom lies-
Formed by planned pillage,
Stealing and swallowing villages overnight.
There are times, when like the light-less lamp
On a moonless night,
The darkness overtakes, even the fastest bike.
There are times, when like the bright lamp
On a full moon night,
When the light seeps behind the curtains drawn tight.
Wicked whispers, spirit lovers and vintage worshippers,
They all at this place, converge.
Yet to me, that taciturn rose
And sombre night, lit by the Sodium-vapour lights,
Forever shall be what defines.
While the rose fades away and is replaced-
By flowers of different shades and perfumes,
The lonely lamp, stands solid on the tar roads
That lead somewhere and also divides.
I watch with a quiet and joyous smile.
Somewhere behind that there stands a wraith,
It shall wait for the lights to fade away.
The Light Shines The Brightest
