Mountains Of Solitude. Poem by Durlabh Singh

I was given
The desert of my heart
Rock hard without a bloom
In mountains of solitude
Within dreary winters of gloom.

Trembling hand for verses to pen
Bereft of intimacy in hope’s ken
Where there are no wings to fly away
And impersonal howling winds sway
Has the spirit died the second day?

At the hand of some murderer deed
I cannot reside in chained heed
Outside death’s desolate dominion
To create a world beyond its mead.