I once met a kid who blew up the moon
and scattered the pieces amongst the stars.
They drifted past the fiery demons
that hid behind the sun,
who burnt the debris with their infernal touch.
They threw the remains for us to catch,
to mock our sorry culture and instigate the forces of our pitiful nature.
And each tiny bit amassed a meteor of hurt
which blazed a trail that fired up the cosmos.
A surge of emotion brought up the commotion that crowded near the crater.
And we stared shockingly
and weeped loudly
and bled metaphorically
and wiped our temporary care
as we witnessed the little one’s arrival
to finish that which is unforgivable.
Her stance against a celestial body
is a criminal offence of the universal level.
Yet we did not take a step further
and shielded our eyes from the horror
as she cupped them into her palms
and whispered to the wind,
‘All that’s left
of your precious moonlight.’
and to the gathering,
‘So now you know
what my Armageddon felt like.’
as she blew it all away.
Written by Sanjay Kumar