Empty pages

Life is like a silence voice is its death

They move shoulder to shoulder,

But they never can go together.

The fading black darkness wakes the voice

And the voice kills the silence infinite times;

Then in a dark tool shed

Voice hears the screams of the silence.

At dusk silence starts getting shivers down its spine.

Justice was done only for the first crime.


Just when the Sun returns to the cemetery,

Singing songs of his history,

The silence awakens the necropolis,

The keeper likes peace in his cemetery.

The keeper loved the songs,

But couldn’t relate them with his story

It takes two for deliverance,

He hailed at voice without violence.

Music can’t exist without silence.


Sitting nearby under a fig tree

The puppeteer brings back his memories

He soon found the God’s ineffability

Listening to songs of this cemetery,

He read the Timebook of clocks infinitely.

Finally swimming in the vast river of life,

He reached the immortal half of silent forest of dreams,

Twas divided in two halves; one barren and other green

Where the Lion imprisoned him and blurred his memories.



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