Abhilash Nanda

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Dance Of Death

That nail, that lurks,
In the middle of a beating heart,
Red and clear,
They dance together.
Seldom it stops,
To a fight, unwinable,
Seldom it gives up,
To a sight, unbearable.

Can ever boundaries be crossed,
That are never meant to be?
Can ever knowledge be lost,
That are never created to be?

You say fire burns everything,
Can it burn its own ash?
But yes it does burn,
Dreams of in debt souls.

So you tell me now,
Amid the dance of death.
How can still the heart beat,
When beating is the source?
Of love, of hate,
Of pain and of its death.

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