Revolution

Revolution splashes multi-hued beams:
wavy green carpeting barren brown;
milky white washing away anaemic pale;
bloody spring dismantling steely tyranny. 

From the dusty memory lane glints velvet
that erased long past emblazoned red.
Now ablaze—the fury of yellow fire of rage,
leaping at the crafty graft’s black face. 

Rumblings grow louder on the horizon.
A storm is blowing over the mindscape,
breaking all shackles, walls of divides,
ballasts of the stinking status quo. 

The conflagration of a new Armageddon*
engulfing the rusty, creaking system,
the spectrum of hope heralds a new dawn
like a rainbow on the rain-washed blue. 

Or is this all another Mirage, a fury

that will spend itself?

Ajit Kumar Das

*the final battle between the good and the evil