Tiresome Rest  

An evocative poem of urban alienation and ennui, by Sushant, exclusively for Different Truths.

Track of time 
Has found a new way 
In this busy city.  
New moon has dawned 
In the same old known sky. 
I pause my breath in the crowded city
To count the alive souls. 
Hustle and bustle in the evening lights 
Has painted the streets in new colours.  
Watchmakers check time, 
Each moment they try 
To make the stopped time
Run on the clocks. 
Naked steps have fathomed the path clearly 
Summer does not kill 
The hunger with the heat.  
The flower selling little boy 
Knocks at the car door,   
The buyer remembers his forgotten lover.  
The evening has its tiresome rest. 
Souls do not want to embrace reality. 
Yellow light invites words 
To be written in a secret diary   
Under the bulb. 
Rain do not wash the ill-conscience.  
Intuition tries not to lose the creative path.

Picture design by Anumita Roy, Different Truths