The lengthening shadows of the figures
slowly merge with the dark of night,
in the oblivious distinction
you cling to the extreme periphery of an
ever-expanding shape,
of which your collective memories
chooses to be mute,
as if not to divulge, the secret of a childhood friend,
come what so ever.
At the stone altar you stand
hands heavenwards, protecting yourself
from the wrath of stars.
All of sudden sky is like an inverted bowl
mosaiced with the shimmering stars,
lighting the distinction with the rustiness of vice.
Your inner space is tangled with all that is
vice and novice
One overlapped by the moonlight
strolls to a walk in night.
subodh pandey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-walk-6/
