Voice of Hearts

Those deadened words ricocheting on ear-lobes, Amidst the doldrums of broken & lost hopes, An existence between truth and hoax,    Truth is an illusion and lies exists in isotopes. Numb and stark like northern December, A quintessential existence with nothing to remember.  Standing at the altar of time with nothing to surrender, War is with self and self is the contender. We shall taste life from spice to bland, Freezing our footprints on time’s sand. Walking to the arena with heads held high, With the fire of hope we take that final stand. Dhrubjyoti

Dried now and yet they mesmerize, A thousand stories and all they summarize, Not moved an inch and yet traveled miles, Like days of eons behind her eyes, Shadows of cruel jokes played by life, Lips smiles but not her eyes, While the depths would turn you insane, And yet the fires of intense pain. Ricocheting dreams form the memory lanes, Of patched up smiles but no sorrow, In those lanes somewhere dwells, A glint of hope for tomorrow. Dhrubjyoti