There’s exist a world..
The end of which is already done..
The seen or unseen it may be..
With the joy or pain it could be..
Along the road, when walk alone..
It can be wind or can create a clone..
The pure or impure are they..
And they exist as can say..
Always in dark..
Leaving their existing mark..
The bloody and slaughtered..
In the heat or can be in the mist..
The homeless, and the wandering..
Everywhere they persist..
Horrifying in ours imagination..
Found to be seen only in reflection..
But, they call for help each day and night..
Scream with pain, and they fight..
The unreachable voice of theirs .
Tried to hear but it gets die to ears..
Bounded by the sufferings..
Wounded and thrashed..
Eyes sunk in blood..
With body turned into ash and mud..
Hunting for the peace..
Seems never cease..
Demand for sleep..
Gets flicker down in deep..
Love, listen and pay the attention..
Through the vibes of concentration..
That’s the only solution..
for the end of season..
And the beginning of rejuvenation..