The moon of a day

 

Paled into playing a second fiddle

Dissolved in the dazzle of day

Visible only on a deeper stare

Into the realm of a lit up sky .

A few hours have passed

When in the deserted dark

Of a forsaken night

The blazing sun sinks at horizon

Crackles at the twilight pyre

Wrapped in the  infinite dark

When the white robe spreads

Upon the desolated corridor

A few hours after the gong

And the mast leaves the bank.

The time when a fragment of spark

Shines in the hour of dark

The sparkling moon holds reigns

And moves his silver chariot

Across the path of darkness .

The same chariot fades

Like ice in boiling water

In the radiance of the day.

 

Delhi

3.4.23

23 59 hrs

2056