Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

64 years the moon lusts, loves and shrieks
Waxes wanes and screams
Hides his tears on the dark side, frozen as hope
In the cold core of his deadened heart
Looks dumb and mute
At the
The hollow eyes
Parched lips
Sullen bosom
Malnourished soul
Of his vivacious love tethered and tied
Hollowed, beaten, sullied, de robed
Yet her soul stares at him
Through ages they have spoken
Now the winds, clouds, oceans,
Echo their whispers
The rain drops pregnant with them
Fall on the parched earth below
Lush green volcanoes of vulgar defiance
Gasp to clothe her rushing pyroclastic flows
Burning boundaries in the flat minds of men
While the moon, lusts, loves, bereft of feel
She stares at him through her hollowed eyes
The meet of their eyes seed in the souls of new men
New tongues, new hearts, new beats, new tears
Will speak, dream and build one public, one people, one world.