Time’s Hymn
- a Poem
- by RB
With bleeding eyes
I write,
Of peace’s demise,
Where a dream’s nigh,
Of an emperor’s rise.
An art not bound,
Chained by the hounds
Of an artist’s mind
Devouring a blackened heart
With all that’s pure and right
Longer stayed
Withered away
To losing sight
Still wretchedly bind
Till the dawn
Of an insane mind
Smother away the flames
Of its knowledge,
Of its causes
And of blamage
For their lies no wrong
No right
Yet, lived is a life
On what’s dim
What’s bright
It’s the time’s hymn
We sought to exist
To count and die
Is it still infinite
If one knows not
How a riddle be solved
Or is it of the riddle’s hurdle
But ask yours this
Is it still infinite,
If it’s a circle?
RB
from Ernakulam, in Kerala, India, a Class 12 student studying in Chinmaya Vidyalaya in Vaduthala is a passionate and aspiring writer. RB, the pen name under which he writes, believes that Art gets its meaning only when it is shared with the world. Else, it becomes obsolete, ‘losing its Art’, he states!
