The Words Poem by Suvro Bhattacharya

in the end everything seemed
to be superfluous,
our whims, our worries,
our everyday words
whirling in between
the four corners of any statutory affairs

in the end everything was
so predictable like the unfolding
of any well rehearsed drama
that our words became silent
like the tired desert
after the longest day of the year

in the end everything pushed
us to the edge of the words,
we exchanged in between our debates,
our secret plans,
our lies along the history
of war and peace unfolding the time