There is a river closing in on a
night of shifting blues
ascending the dark.
a cluster sky clang closes
the gates.
paths and palaces hurtle
merging in a silk sheen touch.
your eyes take over the
of everyday
forlorn tantrums of a skin
brittle memories rushing
before the fort
falls to a splintered dawn.

by Dr. Amitabh Mitra
July 2, 2006