The Apocalypse

 The Apocalypse

-Ishana Ghosh

The blazing fire's raging within,

the cold storms are rushing by

and in this moment of desperation and pain,

the towering waves are rising higher,

messing up the sand that lay inside.

All's being crushed;

being broken and being torn,

but there's no word that I could say.

Who would have imagined

that this day would have come,

when fire and water work hand in hand

to kill and to destroy, everything at bay.

Don't know what to do anymore;

there's no escape route that exists,

and the most amazing thing of all

is that I've never felt it so intensely before.

Seems like every glass that was ever broken

is being thrown back at me, all at once.

Don't know what to do anymore;

there's no way that I can see.

Should I use the warmth to dry the water

and let the fire consume me?

Or should I take the help of water

to douse the fire, and in return,

let the waves break down on me?

At a loss of words, I just wish

a guardian angel, the kind we hear of

in stories, would drop by

and provide the courage and strength

that no human could fathom of,

'cause after all, they'd never know it was needed.

But the angel's supposed to know everything, right?

Why then is it nowhere in sight?

Is he or she afraid, too,

of the darkness that resides inside?

Yes, I wonder whether the angel already knows

better, than to indulge with someone,

whose inside is so dark,

that blackness is all you see

when you care enough, to peep inside,

and look straight at the heart.

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