When The Night Falls

By Subhagata Chowdhury

When the night falls

The owl silently takes off in the night sky

Like a coveted tear drop sweeps down unknowingly.

The sentimental

The righteous

The flamboyant contortionists of the dark

Run frantically towards the gate.

Screaming gleefully with unending mirth

With a perverse desire to suicide.

Standing at the very far end

The puppeteer masterfully calibrates the life

Picking a flower at a time

Cranking open the skull to find the lost-

The lost treasures

Which immaculately had seeped down

Deep in the labyrinth of vessels and blood.

When the night falls

The eternal blasphemian stands rogue.

Immortality – wasted on the likes of him.

The shallow drudgery encapsulates time

As it melts away the fabric of love.

All cherished things, dead.

Lost in the ever widening generational gap,

Lost in the blacked out television screens,

Lost in the deathly stares of the ghosts.

The reclaimer of the land lies dead

Upon the tormented shells of man

What moves around is but a faced of lust

What talks…?

The feverish maniacal heads.

When the night falls

The owl dives – soundless

As it hunts the last remaining rat in the field.

By Subhagata Chowdhury