History is to be noted in moments
History is to be noted in moments Christmas break in a trench Raindrops in a burial ground. Night without crickets City without graffiti And skylarks without skies. Or the Corns, wind, women, Sojourns and suntan Evenings secluded to oneself and black coffee. thoughts like birds Seagulls crossing thresholds of borders on your skin. The half tint canvas Where stories procreate One after the other Of lips, hips and red streams Of bullets and bullshits Of Demons and Demi-gods Of Pope and the Peepal Of love and lie. History is no more history But a child's game of war and loss and war Sticks and mulberry crowns Of you and me and other lives.