God's Funeral Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

Between you and me
There is no rifle,
Yet a conflict covers
The opaque canvas' call.

Some silence staves off
To raise the real roar,
Let our souls wait to vibrate
And our vibrant voices to soar.

Some stupid street dogs bark
In the early hour of delirium-dark;
The GOD, with his wretched brain
Finds his weary way in town-drain.

At the far end of an enlightened tunnel
Who'll write the story of GOD'S funeral...?