
Hear the unspoken words
Of September-in-waiting
Cradling melancholy in its heart
Weighed down with the task
Of bidding farewell to summer

Hear the unspoken words
Of September-in-waiting
Cradling melancholy in its heart
Weighed down with the task
Of bidding farewell to summer

The sound of silence
Consumes the infinite
Clamouring voices in my head
I stare at the blank wall
Waiting for an apparition
To accuse me of murdering it!

Globally, when regimes and political philosophy change, history comes under onslaught. Rewritten, revised, reinterpreted to suit the flavor of the realm. Historical sites are often the target of either misdirected rage or unsolicited renovation. Some soils are colored by the blood of martyrs, some hallways still echo with horrors, some passages are still raw open wounds, and the air of some places still heavy with captive souls.
Continue reading “Let History Be”
Sapphire figments of fantasy
Dark as the indigo velvet night
Embedded in slivers of argent light
Lying on my bosom like ashen fire
Ebb and flow of each breath
Heave and sigh of the chest
Life moving in glossy rhythms
Of soulful music from the depth

In a moonlit paradise
Touched by wands
Of sterling light
Lustrous magic
Weaves a cobweb
Of glossy dreams
An argent sheen
Covers the night