A long, cold night awaits tonight,
As a dark has been enforced in locks,
By windows fastened in distances,
Shut over a timeless brief.
And now no lights shall glimmer,
Behind half drawn curtains of a flowery print,
Where her shadow would pace up and down,
With a tiny heart clung to her heavy bosom,
And then pause to peep over corners of a pane.
In silent winter breeze of the past,
He would extend his unwritten hands,
Drawing images of an unseen connect,
Then in outstretched desirous palms,
Dreams would let fly in sky lanterns,
Hundred birds taking a nocturnal flight,
Like rubies stitched over gowns of a night,
Sky necklaces the maiden would wear.
Then one night the lights were stomped out,
The invader said ‘the lamps are a code’,
‘Aimed to revolt against the cold kings hold’,
‘Now no voices shall dare raise a squeak’,
‘And no window shall let open to light’.
Now fate was chiseled in unwritten hands,
By daggers drawn in torture dungeons,
There lines were erased over garbled paths,
In torture chambers by the Gupkar edge,
That hold fort to the power elites,
And lives were erased even before a start.
The night necklace is now cloaked by a shroud,
And the sky lanterns have lost their paths,
Aimless over meadows in search for tiny palms,
That once drew in unwritten hands.