Illusion

By Aeshwarya Singh

On voyages I plunge in deep,

I hang bewildered on hills steep

Inside this mountain cavity

I dive into insanity

I gaze at a dear old friend called death

As dear old crows fly over our head.

The mighty clouds of doubt arise,

The black-blue sky breaks down and cries.

Send the dismal winds of souls,

Oh heavens, my spirit weeps aloud.

Sinister ghouls, fulfil your goals

Don’t make the howling winds shout.

Don’t spill my dreaded secret, river

I hide inside your silent currents.

The moon at night will make you shiver

Cuckoos, let the floods commence.

By Aeshwarya Singh