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By Mukesh Choudhry

All the nights of weeks,

They roam around my days!

The void of sleep, I'm nobody's wake.

Lies coil around me; and

My vise of truth

Lays barons to the waste.

Blossom seeks what despair awaits;

Which tears were forgotten for,

Towards joy - make haste.

I'm no-one's plans,

None's loss, neither gains.

Nor trial, no siege.

For I am; your pain, or pleasure,

Whichever you believe.

Raison, novo;

Whatever you believe.

By Mukesh Choudhry

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