With each passing day, these words appear dull to me,
Dull like a dry patch of grass in the green expanse .
This paper stares at me with a sullen face ,
Sullen like all blood has been sucked through its veins ,
The pen no longer moves in the curves of slender bodies ,
It loiters , aimlessly in endless doodles ,
While the mind roams in a blind space …
Every answer to your tiredness first asks you a question ,
What ! Oh vermin are you tired off ,
And you cease to say ,’I am tired ‘
But I am tired ,
Of a journey sans destination ,
Of a path devoid of road ,
If steps around a huge circle taking me nowhere .
There have been pebbles I have picked en route ,
But the burden breaks my heart at times ,
And then there are mines ,
Which never cease to blast ,
Over and over again ,
With the same intensity ,
The damages sometimes everlasting .
And for a change ,
For once ,
I am not going to end the poem with a hope !
© Ambika (Athena)