The Soul Of Land

By Sriya Sreenivas

The land was cursed,

perished under the chains of mighty Sun. Veiled in its own dark present ,once

hailed of the luscious green.

The seeds are in eternal sleep,

who wish for that 8prince on black horse. “Oh vigorous black stallion ,

may your stiletto hooves

ebonize the sky and, let her bleed…

Let sky quench the thirst on deeds..

let the prince canoodle , the wrinkled face ghouls of land “

Condemn the warlock sun, who drains the blood, and now the tears , to flare

agony of virgin land…

Beware the wind, the janitor of the warlock. Who lashes on the sore.

Nothing but more painful

than daydreaming, pitiful than hope.

“ OH RAIN……

oh, prince of endless splashes.

Son of unfathomable luck,

mercy on us..

Forgive our sins of excuse,

forthright your glance on us.

Let your smile of breeze

be cork, that mute the trumpet

who plays the eulogy of of land.”

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By Sriya Sreenivas