At the crux of dawn,
When the entire world is asleep
Except the lonely and in love ones.
The rain god has once again stolen
The thunder by signaling his arrival.
The sky is pitch dark with few traces
Of maroon tinted clouds in it.
There's rumbling happening -
An indicator of rain's arrival.
Slowly the days will get warmer,
The nightingale will start crooning
Songs of rain, praising and earning
The lord's appreciation.

The world is asleep, the owls are
Awake.
The underprivileged are pondering.
Their heads in the clouds, hazy with
Grief.
Thinking about home and departure
Like migrant birds.
Will they survive?
No food, no water, no shelter;
Only beatings, false dreams and
Scorching sun.
The sun is hearing complaints.
If he's a protector, why is he not
Protecting them?
Karma and destiny are not letting him
Answer.
To each their own.

Bureaucracy is in a jinx,
A jeopardy.
The cases of lethal virus keeps on
Arising.
They've failed.
No answers, all measures have gone
Down the drain.
They say they've it in control yet the
Mask is breaking.
Plenty of masks to protect their
Faces,
None to protect their lies and fears.
They keep locking the door thinking
It'll keep the intruder out yet it is
Here, isn't it?

She stays awake during the night like
An owl, pondering about abstract
Things like love.
It is a puzzle.
Does he think? Do the brown eyes
Remember the coal ones?
She ponders,
The dark is here, its not going away.
Is it the same for everyone, or is she
Black sheep — the unfortunate?
Thousands of locks keep on locking
& Unlocking in her firmament mind.
Each lock, each root displaying a
Reflection of her.
If left to her, she'd break the mirror.
Destroy the reflections open to those
Who dare to see them.
Yet she doesn't have control,
The rock is in destiny's hand not hers.

Eyes of solitude are roaming around.
He never strays from his duties,
Always up to the mark, completing
What destiny wrote in his hands.
He never forgets his faith & worship.
He's a believer.

Does the nonbeliever remember?
What facade does he hide behind?
What thoughts roam the streets of
His mind?
Who are the inhabitants of his
Kingdom, and what do they think?
What does the think? Does he think
Of the angel or the black chicken?
Does he have faith or is he a liar?

So many thoughts roam the streets of
My mind at 5am, turning into a
Culmination of musings.
The sky rumbles again, commanding
The agonised ones to sleep while
They guard the world and
Harmony flows.
Its 5:30am, there's silence and
White peace flowing.

Written within 15 minutes.

-Ridhima Joshi