Along with the muezzin’s call of maghrib in twilight
came that shocking news-
inhaling oxygen betrayed you
and you departed tip toeing
without letting others have the slightest prior hint of this last ride.
No celestial bathe
No linen shroud
Nothing followed.
In the periphery of the graveyard
Some masked faces were seen inside your luxury car
hiding like captive prisoners
scrambling in a tumultuous way-
If the last glance of you be caught !
Vagabond clouds seen floating on
haggard looking sky aimlessly.
Stars stopped blinking for few seconds.
The leaves of trees were seen stooping in familiar remorse.
and the rain that was supposedly come down through
were flown away by crooked wind.
Detach oneself away from others is the slogan of the time.
now on the path of your departure quavers a sad galore
the glow of emancipation brightens the path ahead.