Blood on the hands

With blood on the hands
And piety untouched in the mind
We worship the things we created
In a spate of blood unabated

Blood bath and bloody trails
This is where humanity fails
We still worship in our hearts
With blood on the hands
The one we created
With the bleeding unabated.

Dying for a cause is what we look for
But judging the cause
We never for a moment pause
Humanity has lost its sheen.
And fraternity, where is it?
It is not seen.

There is Order

Order in disorder is all that is sought
Fates turning upside down
Recurring bumps and no leads
Reflect only disorder's deeds

Struck by the storm in the middle of the sea
Land is near but I cannot see
The bouts of the gale
Leave me sick and pale
It twists, pushes and sways
All it does and there it stays
In the turbulence of the fate
I am caught always late.

The ship is wrecked
The journey is done
Up due to the noise
I See a new sun.

Though late ,finally is the order present
Chaos gone and confusion lost
I am in a new land and feel the sun
I am happy and long for none.

Corridors of Time

In the corridors of time
We walk between the walls of fate
Turning around the corners of destiny
We find new corridors
Walking in the moments,happy and sad
We write the story as the path tread

There is light and there is darkness
There is hope and there is despair
In these corridors of time
Everything is made as a pair

Do we have a destination
Do we have a plan
In these corridors of time
We just walk unknown to each other
We just walk to forget our ignorance
We just walk in a perennial trance.

The Blue canvas

On the blue canvas were the latest strokes of brush
In Red,Cyan and blue
Touching it were the birds flying hush
The same my heart was trying to do.

The strokes are now diffused by the wind
The blue canvas is now ready for a fresh paint
Grey was all it got
For there were rainy clouds in the lot.

The clouds are emptied soon
Towards the far fields they drifted apart
To only return for the same art.

The sun setting in the corner of the sky
Fills it with crimson as it goes by
The clouds are pushed
The noises hushed
The canvas is all ready for the moon
Who was waiting to color it soon.