• Antara Basu


Uproars that have blurred,

For a plague’s birth.

The chaos they seek turned to calm,

Stumbling silences of the realm,

A pandemonium’s pause.

Hysterical cries of mortal men,

Trapped within walls of four.

Empty streets, deserted alleys,

But voids filled with their thoughts.

They can’t hear temple bells,

Nor church hymns.

But the feuds of faith,

Scream in the silence.

And they stay inside, behind closed doors,

Imprisoned with themselves.

Wild run the thoughts,

In anxious minds, uneasy warmth.

Restless movements in restricted bodies.

Yet they sit still, looking through the hourglass,

And the slipping sands of time.

But the fall of human chaos,

Becomes the dawn of nature’s anarchy.

The muse of the creators.

And they watch and they behold.

They embrace,

They wait.