Pallid paintings on the empty walls withhold too many memories.

Sculptures at the intersection of decades have seen decline of too many cultures.

Thousands of things rise and fall,

are born and die,

within just a twinkling of an eye.

Sterile streets are shrouded by silhouettes of sorrow.

Footless shoes are in futile search of shoeless feet.

Rusty rings loose their hold around the melting flesh of fingers.

Clocks and watches have stopped breathing.

Is time moving then?

Around unmade sepulchers roam veteran vultures.

Lifeless skeletons are lying against leafless trees.

 Etherized eyes are dreaming of being awake.

Perturbed particles depart from the center and break.

A battle won is a battle lost! The dice do ironically laugh.

Where to go?

The hellish heaven, the one, the heavenly hell is the other half.

The sun wants clouds to become a tapestry

behind which hide the history of horrors and mystery terrors.

~ Swapnajeet Das

Kolkata, India