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Bird of the Red Dusk

In a bittersweet world of bedlam,

Of transient peace and mayhem,

She was a free bird of harmony,

Playing in a chaotic symphony.


The bird was flying high and wild,

Soaring aross the September sky,

Singing the songs of country life,

Emancipated in the blissful flight.


She flew over the rocky mountains,

Down the charming river valleys,

Along the green meadows of mist,

Into the enchanting flower alleys.


Enamoured by the beauty beneath,

& perplexed by the life's miseries,

She got lost in thoughts deep,

Of rationality, conundrums & mysteries.


The summers of candid joy,

The winters of mystic sorrow,

The autumns of warm love,

The springs of rising distrust.


The eternal glory of the infinite skies,

The random pattern of the dotted stars,

The grand depths of the mighty oceans,

The shallowness of the human relations.


The vibrant colors of morning light,

The darkness of the late winter night,

The delightful rains in the hilly terrains,

The thirsty and barren Central plains.


Her trance did not last too long,

As the thoughts were plundered,

By a roaring vigorous thunder,

To her life's greatest ever wonder.


An invisible force of shock waves,

Knocked her briefly out of the way,

In a while she regained her poise,

Hurt by the brute power and noise.


She sighted a monster in grey,

Dashing across the autumn sky,

With the wings of far heaven,

And a smoky trail of cloudy white.


The monster vanished in a flash,

Zooming into the velvet horizon,

To the utter relief of the bird,

The bird of swaying emotions.


Brief was the moment of respite,

For she heard an approching noise,

Lot louder than the first one,

And as mysterious as the night.


The bird of the evening sky,

Was hurled and swept astray,

By the invisible shock waves,

Of a fleet of monsters in grey.


The sun across the fields,

Was yearning for rest,

While the crimson twilight,

Spread its hue in the West.


She mumbled her prayers in hurry,

Too overwhelmed to reason over,

And too frightened to think about,

The goal of the monsters of fury.


Flashes erupted in the moonlit night,

When missiles darted in the dim light,

Programmed to write the history in red,

As she witnessed the fearsome plight.


A shrilling sound...A destructive thunder...

A storm of dust...A bloody surrender...

A world massacred...Humanity in pain...


Cries of agony....Rantings in vain...

Happy homes of yore...Razed and gutted...

Joyful voices of land...Down and muted ...


Changing her homeward course,

In search of a distant abode,

She kept flying with the memories,

In the winds of an elusive hope.


While a radio in the dark valley,

Was playing the war song of folly.


"...A few days of blitzkreig,

Endless years of pain,

A few minds of sadism,

An eternity of shame..."


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