The blackened night roared violently,
Some ran for cover and some provided it,
Even the brave were framed by fright,
Even the aimless struggled to survive.
Soaked in thunder, consumed by it,
All spirits were turned to rubble alike,
The pouring put out the fire in the brave,
It assured the purposeless that they ought to die.
Black became purple to meet the shining sun,
The wreckage silently rang in all ears,
We must remember that all were broken down,
Few patched themselves up to face the day.
-Kankshita
13 October 2014, Thursday