Between Realisation and Healing

When no one wants to heal and speak scatteringly of some remedy

Mostly unheard, a time which is misshapen, needle the pain

Imposing trees and mountains, the scattered clouds, and wayward rivers

Scaly feelings are increasingly uncomfortable

Blighted dreams, squirming languages translate the painful moments

The colourful flowers amidst folded valleys bleed silent tears

All the fables hibernate between the decaying pages

Hoping for someone to turn to them and memorise

For, the ears of the future can be inspired by stories optimistic

~Amitav

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