This silence instils me with dread.
Perchance 'tis me, bereft of knowing ear.
Golden reciprocity; nought be said.
Would dialogue ensue, if thou art near?
'Tis insipid; moonless every night,
and empty; cloudless every day.
Black and blue; colours of plight!
Oh, hast thou nothing to say?
A silent whisper once graced my ears.
Sunrise over spans 'twas once frozen.
By who? The receding shadow disappears.
Why was it, that I was chosen?
In a surreal wasteland I awake;
every blinking star appears a ticking clock.
All space and time I'd forsake,
for the key to destiny that thine lips lock.
Knocking on heaven's door, questioning,
'twas her – my angel – that you sent?
Imploring the Fates; will she educe a king?
They reply: “the future is always silent”.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
This silence instils me with dread.
Perchance 'tis me, bereft of knowing ear.
Golden reciprocity; nought be said.
Would dialogue ensue, if thou art near?
'Tis insipid; moonless every night,
and empty; cloudless every day.
Black and blue; colours of plight!
Oh, hast thou nothing to say?
A silent whisper once graced my ears.
Sunrise over spans 'twas once frozen.
By who? The receding shadow disappears.
Why was it, that I was chosen?
In a surreal wasteland I awake;
every blinking star appears a ticking clock.
All space and time I'd forsake,
for the key to destiny that thine lips lock.
Knocking on heaven's door, questioning,
'twas her – my angel – that you sent?
Imploring the Fates; will she educe a king?
They reply: “the future is always silent”.
Copyright (c) 2013 Ashish Gupta
CC BY-NC-ND 3.0, www.ashishgupta.biz
