The End Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

It is there like a curtain of smoke
Stalking, visible and yet invisible.
Sometimes, the sound is clear like
That of a drop of water in the bathroom.
A leaking tape. Even in deep sleep.
Each nod draws the body closer to it.
Like it is possessed. They think of it
And get scared about what is there
On the other side. Is it smoky like
Here or a stream of clear water?
No one has reported yet. Only a guess.
A guess like a meteor- bright and ash.
If it is like that don't care for it.
Someday, the door will be closed
For you to this world. But you
Are always knocking, you must.