Gloved Stings

I am your dying earth.
For salvation I bow my head
to get an implicit hit.

My love is broken.
Night dancers are ready for an incredible
shake. Someone cuts my voice.

Arrival of redemption was
delayed. Nobody wants to live again.
The tomb shuts the door.

The world today is not a pleasant place to live. So nobody wants to be reborn.

Rajendra Singh Baisthakur , Nellore, AP, 524003