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A name of clemency
A name of clemency

Belief will lynch all the vistas,

one by one,

for art of living,

to break the silence of innocence.

I will scream, when hurts bruise

in temporal sleep,

for man's hymns of wheeled corpses

wafting in eternal cliffs of truth

being proud strings of a forgotten song

in the valley of death

chastening the majesty of scars.

I will pray for the brief funeral

of old age,

I shall not beg for mercy.

Satish Verma

----------------------------------------------------

A NAME OF CLEMENCY

Belief will lynch all the vistas,

one by one,

for art of living,

to break the silence of innocence.

I will scream, when hurts bruise

in temporal sleep,

for man's hymns of wheeled corpses

wafting in eternal cliffs of truth

being proud strings of a forgotten song

in the valley of death

chastening the majesty of scars.

I will pray for the brief funeral

of old age,

I shall not beg for mercy.

Satish Verma

----------------------------------------------------

A NAME OF CLEMENCY

Belief will lynch all the vistas,

one by one,

for art of living,

to break the silence of innocence.

I will scream, when hurts bruise

in temporal sleep,

for man's hymns of wheeled corpses

wafting in eternal cliffs of truth

being proud strings of a forgotten song

in the valley of death

chastening the majesty of scars.

I will pray for the brief funeral

of old age,

I shall not beg for mercy.

Satish Verma

----------------------------------------------------

A NAME OF CLEMENCY

Belief will lynch all the vistas,

one by one,

for art of living,

to break the silence of innocence.

I will scream, when hurts bruise

in temporal sleep,

for man's hymns of wheeled corpses

wafting in eternal cliffs of truth

being proud strings of a forgotten song

in the valley of death

chastening the majesty of scars.

I will pray for the brief funeral

of old age,

I shall not beg for mercy.

Satish Verma

----------------------------------------------------

A NAME OF CLEMENCY

Belief will lynch all the vistas,

one by one,

for art of living,

to break the silence of innocence.

I will scream, when hurts bruise

in temporal sleep,

for man's hymns of wheeled corpses

wafting in eternal cliffs of truth

being proud strings of a forgotten song

in the valley of death

chastening the majesty of scars.

I will pray for the brief funeral

of old age,

I shall not beg for mercy.

Satish Verma

----------------------------------------------------

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