The worthless words come in mindWhen it feels unpeturbed by real time
The wingless birds fail to cry
As they jump, fail, and hail the fly
And through the desert walks a man
Not far from water but over rivers dry
With nothing but a hand in his other hand
The man does knows he's about to die
Its not just life , its an essence of it
That lets us fight death , bit by bit
And like a squinch supports a dome
We crawl inch by inch to our doom
All these broken beads , ruthless they seem
All these heartless feets , in darkness they gleem
They make us ask : are we alive or are we not
Will we really survive or will we have to rot
And these broken beads , each with a story to tell
Will last forever in us , from heaven to hell
Even as we realise our time has come and gone
For man it seems , there will be no dawn...
-Nipun Sawhney
