The Last Temptation of a Stardust

The gates of wisdom open

With the promise of freedom,

After lifelong trials and

Day-to-day struggles,

Yearning for a fresh breath as a human.

The dreams and hopes are

Caught in hidden hideous corridors

 Leading to ancient chambers where

The walls display archaic laws

Of discrimination.

Answers pushed forth,

Apologies demanded,

Warnings showered...

(As if they really cared for you.)

Every day remains unaccounted for,

Every moment seeping through the palms,

Every second a choking cruel joke.

The real learning happens outside

True answers are out of syllabus

Which rise as arrows

Stained in dark blood

From a bow without the mark of a thumb.

The last temptation

Is a ceiling fan.

The last temptation is

A passion for pain,

Of being an exploding firefly

Right under the belly

Of the rotating blades of arrogance.

Redemption

Is transformation

As a question

The flag of which

Is entangled in 24 spokes.

The last sigh

A forgotten language

Leaving letters

Fluttering wings

Breaking the silence

The clenched fist

Which never stops

Punching the insolent air.

A gaze, a resurrecting challenge.

The night sky with its myriad eyes

Reveals the piercing question

A bleeding wound

Around which rise

The wrath of the universe.

The whorls of wounds throb

In resonance with sobs

Of a non-stop sewing machine.

The fight goes on

In the land of lynching mobs…