Gyre

It is painful to
bear the brunt,
to hear that
nonchalant grunt,
to say a
few words and
listen to lectures,
to be considered
for granted and
bear the spurn.

It is too painful
for life to
continue the sphere.

Death sounds
beautiful
just like the flower
night lock,
filling you with
blissful imagination
of peace and stir,
not revealing to
you the
stagnant point or
the grubby corner.
No one knows
what lies ahead,
assuming beauty
or peace
has long left,
now remains
the fringy speculations
showing the
chaotic ripples
instead of reflection.

Raj Nandani.