War

LonesomeWanderer
Jun 21 · 1 min read

A storm was raging outside;
Trees twisted to their trunks,
Harrowed leaves
and screeching winds
and torrential downpour
and earth splitting thunders
shaded a silvery shadow over all;

For infinitesimal moments
Frames of pure wrath
My windowpane revealed.

On one of those split seconds
between the game of life and death
I saw a broken nest fall
and it carried
a tiny fragile bird to the rain-swept earth.

Next morning, amid the vastness
of an indiscriminate destruction
The bird was never ever found.