until the nadir is upturned.
Revolutionaries build their castles
on distant islands, hoofed
among the strong forces of
Oceanic lands, where mirages
mirror one another
until it’s just one huge labyrinth
and the eye cannot see the truth.
Wandering aimlessly, fighting a vain war
often we end up on shores
seeking shelter, we assume it
houses just one for comfort
while invisible hands slice the throat
silently by night, relentlessly!
Muffled cries. Moans. Sighs.
But that’s just it...
I have just 9 more months
until the nadir is upturned
else death will dawn on all of us.
*Just a scarred story of a common soldier
Image courtesy here