Kashmir

I see a smokey street...

Shoes unacclaimed, lie everywhere

Along with stones and bricks

And fire- the 'nether'al acquainted flare

Burn the villages of heaven.

I see a hand emerging

Out of the hideous mayhem,

With heavy, over large fist, smothering

A beautiful white rose;

Whose petals burn in these flames.

A war must be coming...

A long deferred war.

There might be a judgement.

The blood red sun might lift the morning

And wave a flag of terror.

The black petals regenerate

Upon the golden stalk.

This war must be coming,

When our paths would be guided by fate

And names smeared in the rocks.

I see a brook of agility

Disappear in the crevices of memorials.

It instigates a drought in thirst.

The kingdom of affinity

Now, which was 'inhumanely' cursed.

The lakes are now a burial ground;

Sometimes for disposal.

A crow cawing against the red sky

Perched on the head of its food.

The more they live, the louder they cry.

The valleys are dangerous

No one knows what might be found there.

The meadows surrounded by a trench

In which the hideous fire flares

There might be a judgement.

Someone must be coming

From the streams or the rivers

To lead us to the day of doom.

Then I see a snowy sun shining

While all the colours disappear.

A world without yellows and pinks,

Reds and greens.

One bright sky spread above us.

The religion of duty, binds broken borders

To a creation, of one world.