When nothing stirs and it feels the time has deserted the world
Borders are blurred, eyes feel lazy to vision any fruitful dreams
There are no more stories for now; the mind babbles still
Speaking of new adventures with the birth of a sober morning
This orb is not made of glass for it to be shattered by foolishness
Mundane work anaesthetise the mind, one can only argue
Uneven that is, languages extremely trimmed for the occasion
Unwillingly welcome and accommodate those thoughts
Being philosophical in a morally miserly time is embarrassing
So, the entire perception has been inverted- eyes try to adjust
Thoughts run foolish and scared for they are perturbed
Communication evaporate, and the chatterers still continue
~Amitav
Amitav Chowdhury 