The Wait

Cultivated land speak so little about frustration,

The land bruise for the owner to be enlightened,

While the traveler marvels at his ambiguity called,

Hard work

There is no catch phrases in this stanza,

No equation to be solved, Mistry lies in her eyes,

Few conflictions made him understand his pain,

Selected listeners were brewed for his lust,

Who are we?

It no longer written in the blue book,

Some memories the last verse, to dilute

His speech in the walls of the unknown,

We praise without knowing we are watched,

Stoned by the words of a seer we stand in site,

For at night he delivers the medication in our veins,

On site he says, on site he says.

Who restructured our silence?

Are we together on this devastation?

Are we walking?

Who talked to him anyway?

“It a fall of the un-divine”, who are the dynasty

For dynamics keep us on a loop of the unknown,

Leave? Which cluster do I instill the late redeemed!

Esteemed packs of salute!

Restraining orders, white papers, court processes, where are we?

The cortex of my appeal is fired up by the latest remark,

Crews make it seem scantingly to suffer in numbers,