The road winds up the hill
Treacherous, tortuous, tiring
In search of that beacon of light
Enlightening, encompassing, ensnaring
A thick film of fog hangs down on earth
Grey, grim, grimacing
At Nature's generous endowments
Unhappy, unrelenting, unhinged
By its own melancholic solitude
Yet daring, dauntless, demandingAnswers best forgotten and buried in the past
The cloak camouflages continuum
And descends like a pall of doom
Presaged, perpetuates pretentions
Of an untimely end vulnerable
Fearful of a formidable fiasco of a futureLest it opposes all designs carefully planned
of life, love, lust and longings
Eternal.....
(Thoughts found cadence at Bhangarh, the cursed civilization in timeless wait for divine blessing)
