A Feeling
The sullen mood of a monsoon mind,
The greyish hue of a depressed heart,
The tint of the last rays of a dropping sun,
Fast fading off the sculptured dome;
Visions of hope disintegrating into shambles.
The barren view of it lies stretched in the gloam,
Darkness descends with its decadent gloom,
Desperately yearning for the stars and moon to bloom,
Wanting to break the monotonous strain
Of unmittigated melancholic mayhem,
Creating new music of melancholy,
The cadence of a tragic grand finale.
I still have visions of free white clouds,
Sailing across the cerulean sky of a bright Indian Autumn,
That's the only dream, I dream,
That's the only hope, I hope,
That's the only thing, I look forward to.
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