English Poem

 

The Cease

Time is but a witness to all of wasted youth,
To old age sighs and innocence of novice
The might of corrupt and to every triumph
Speaking volumes to a deafening noise.

Yet water flows down, the storm blows again
Neither heat nor cold, nor the loneliness of
A crowded epoch demands a soulful end
But every fizzle creates an empty space.

Thou art a strange mystery that hovers hot
Willingly unwilling for a masterful cease
Demands the world for every penny earned
Chase is the smile, end is a mere shut eye.

Author: Swarbhanu Chatterjee

Contribution Date: Jun 17, 2018.

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