Now the world is a shelter,- nameless
with a raw-wood door hanging hingeless,
which is never knocked at for an address.
The careless dusty lane of time , everknown -
has lost its way of returning home.
Moments swirl in smoky despair
from the endlessly smouldering life cigar.

Time, older than the universe
transcends the fear of ageing,
and looks back through the loopholes of leisure.
Clumsy souls touch heaps of death,- stark
as shadows grow longer and gets soaked in the dark.
The newly formed world
emerging out of pandemic chaos
lingers with the starry silence in ethos.

Wisps of hope billows out of gutted breath,
life murmurs like habitual phrases of praise;
washed and ironed remnants of oblivion
folded carefully with disappearing time
recedes into the simplicity of fading.
Fragments of trapped dream
bloom on the debris again sprouting green.

Like an excavated civilization
the new life peers with hesitation
through the latticed hope in lifelong restrain.
Long silenced cries are once wept aloud again;
mysteries of life scribbles on time
new songs of longing and love still chime.
Levitating freedom sweeps all masks of fear,
wayward soul breaks the cage of barrier.