the poetry of the time is reflected in the eyes of the peddlar
the canvas speaks volumes through the splash of colour
a string of thought pulled by a vision
the dreamer dreams of a world beyond destinations
a hope only living till the living would die
a roamer on the steets of L.A
a figment of her 'after hours' imagination
a pushing daisy..a smell so sweet
a thought inflicted pain...pain too large to inhale
a wanderer in the alleys of chandni chowk
a sleepless night spent in agony of the thoughtless worth
a creeping realisation of destinies far divided
the need of the hour becomes the hope of tomorrow
lived too long in the sightless morning
the road too long to travel in a day
a lie told to cover up the inevitable truth
a slap on the face of all the morons who thought they could..
a need is expressed...
a desire worshipped...
the 'GOD' is witnessed...
the light too strong...
hurt is enjoyed...
in the hope of a no hope tomorrow...
the condition is the same...
the sacrifice dwelt upon...
turn to you...
turn to you...
turn to you...
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