FOR THOSE WHO NEVER SAID GOOD BYE

That was the day, when the door promised some new moments, yet to be seen...
The seconds were tickled with dream-between  the breath the wink.
Long was the path-, journey was deferred,sometimes despair crept in
And perched lips sang the dirge, when the guns rattled and the rose beat  the funeral drum.

There were the others , seeking for blood; Some of them laid dead while the others cheered.
When the sin,chasing behind, tore the drooping eyes, moaning became faulty, as nothing was there
To be meditated, and haughtiness begot shame on civilized  face. Only the dead rose from the cell
To expiate and tell -fanaticism only fan the flames of crimson eyes, setting the books  ablaze.

That was not the hour to brood, or the minute to feel sad. The corpses demanded justice
And angles were waiting to fill the bucket to wash away the stain. None can write the truth
Except the hands, raised to save themselves from  the bullets; history will bear the thread
Of massacre on the pages. And what can't be sung or can't be undone, needs revision.....

As the dead, never says good bye and the solitude speaks of nothing but death and sublimation!