Mystic alleys
Mystic alleys of nights
Binding the treacherous silence.
Dreams are of souls and footprints,
Not of fountains and fulfillments,
Not of parasites and plastics.
Footpaths crawl endlessly
Cross fading the echoes of each day.
Where a city never sleeps
And traffic light blinks,
People pacify themselves with
amenities,
Securing all the joys of void.
Crowd divides into halves and then
halves,
Few sit in alleys with their youth,
With the Pole star and the rusted
wrist watches.
Few drain away with the corrosion of
sense,
Longing to touch the sunshine and
crust of moon.
Night beholds different enigmas,
For an alley, for a lover,
For a coward, and for the city lights,
Each bereft of their entity.
Where do those cowards of the alleys
hide
When the darkness fights with
sunlight?.
Mystic alleys provide alibi to all
secrets.
Some hidden within the bricks of ages,
Or might be inside the fleshy thorns.
Have you ever crawled with sanity
In the cracked path of an alley?.
Run faster to dig up a remedy.
Alleys are fading, so are the
nights!.
-07th September, 2014,
2.25 am
