_Patches_

Sometimes five in the morning
I view and wonder.
All patches in dark I see
Is what is left of nature
But the fire is still burning
And all that is left is this burnt culture.
Blazing through the kala bandar of civilization

Till now nothing has cut me that deep
Have scathed through whatever was left of the heat
Cindered into the Whimsical minds of Lunacracy.
I have lied of my past,
Will be lying for the future.

Revenge is a common element we all let grow within ourselves.
And someday it builds up,
All it does leaves is a pile of ash from recent fire,
Which has just passed or shall pass.

But sometimes there is revenge without a thought for oneself.
But a cause from observance.
An observance I witness in others,
And that alone can be the reason.

Sometimes, we all become the cause for the revenge.
The revenge we want on oneself,
We scathe ourselves with that fire over and over.
That it starts affecting our deepest conscious.

And many a times or mostly it is the thing that we love is that affects us the most
That causes us to hurt ourselves
and we want revenge off it
We want revenge on it
We want revenge on the whole civilization.

And then it truly reflects that without the kala bandar
the meaning of the gora fire is unnerving.
And unless we become the fire
We never will learn or improvise.

And thats then balance is achieved
And I still look at the site and know
That it truly completes it
And we become one as humans
than individuals of caste, creed or a nation.