This post has been published by me as a part of Blog-a-Ton 59; the fifty-ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. In association with ​IndiCreator. For Creators. By Creators.. Share Your #LockdownTales at indicreator.com

CLIFF HANGER

The far cry of the destitute; the howl and desperation of the multitude,

 leading to nought… but the hollowness, that engulfs the breath within,

and without, the dim sheen of hunger,  helplessness, of unpredictability,

 leading to the anguish of the saline droplets that evokes a story,

 the unfulfilling story of love and of hatred,

 draining the sweat of each day, of horror, of loss, of emptiness,

 devoid of hope, of sunshine;

happiness that once had wings to fly, now locked in the innermost cell of the being,

 dormant till eternity; no one knows till when…

Is this a solitary confinement for a heinous sin? Or a shameful act?

Or an incarceration of the soul that is unable to set free,

 burdened by the eerie dubiety of loss, of pain, of separation,

yet of restraint to overcome the void,

 to unravel from the shackles of the mysterious phenomenon called life?

Yes life, the precious gift, deceased in its domain,

untill the jerk happens, the most awaited jolt;

Should there be light again?

 The soul of the impoverished yells with aspiration, shouts out…

”lift, lift us from this pitiable state, unite us in harmony, just one more time…”

Will man ever realize it’s significance? Change for a better world?

An open-ended curiosity…

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