Faithless Hands
There were subtle declines,
still I opted for incompleteness.
A fierce battle was raging.
I think to start my descent
in roofless castle of mania
to watch the self-destruction of a landscape.
Thousands were squatting on mud tracks.
till the dead rise from their ice beds.
Ghostly hands were building the fire
to send the rivers in exile.
Hunger will decide the fate of the earth.
Man was playing with the sands.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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