Familiarity, a stranger in the dark;
Shadows open out with shadowy
meanings, euding the outstretchedn palm.
That scribe counted not his hey days
cares less for the last day in the wings.
So many knew the way to his cabin,
now shun the route to his house;
Will a few lines in the obituary
shed light on vacuous memories?
'Does it matter? ' he grins, stained
teeth dying in weak cavities;
'I have no faith, none to keep either'
“Globalisation too is faith',
I teased; 'keeps emptying human
waste into the valley.'
He grinned again, dying tooth
trembling in recognition.
The wheel turns on its own axle.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
excellent write -10 anjali