Stars are shining, on a marble arch,
Hope dividing the sun from the stars.
A day it brings, a rise it rings, a light it impinge, through the heavy clouds.
The darkness, in its absence, the dusk letting access, to the demons, we can't see,
The stars are shining, but the hope is drowning, the boy still whining, why he's dead.
"The day is lost and the night has fallen, the stars just shine, they don’t give solace.
The glitter is no way akin to the hope,
The zappy harsh rays of sun is the force,
That destroys the demons in their abode.
But the night has fallen, the stars won't save you,
The time hath cometh, for the world to bid goodbye, to you."
Said the mother of the dead.
The boy, still shocked
From what he heard,
Called her, a liar,
A victim of the fire,
The fire, he says, blows the mind of a face,
The face, which face, its fury and its flames.
This fact, he says, told to him, in the days of hay,
By his mother who faced, those scary flames.
But the mother of dead, laughs a bit, cries away,
As she turned on the trail, of fury and distress.
Before she turns her face, yells at top of her voice,
“The fire is a myth. To hide, a trick,
They say we are mad, by the flames' wrath,
But we'd foreseen truth, the world would come to,
And here's the day, my son is dead,
You still call me victim of fire,
You are the one who'll face the ire,
Once we reach on our heavenly abode,
And the justice will be done to our cause,
Billions like you'll be held to the chains of truth,
And few like us will still rue your lack of trust,
In us, in the rules of nature, the myopic views of your truth.
The world is destroyed, the hope is gone, the demons have arrived, to gorge upon,
The Beatles' pride, would have died again, had he still been here today,
To see the world come to this, after what he 'Imagined' through his texts,
The dreamer in him, failed to bring
The people in sync, and the world could never be one.”
And as she ends, this gloomy tale of futility and fate,
She yelps, to the sound of another wave,
Which hits her right on her face,
And made her, a thing of past in this tale.
The boy shuddered, to the scene in front,
The shine of the stars have faded to the back,
The dark clouds of smoke and the electric smell,
The swarms of blue bottle fly, ready to mutilate the dead,
Unaware of the fact, that they too soon be dead.
The mushroom is there, in front of his eyes,
The boundaries of nations, now a blurry line,
As Lennon desired, once upon a time,
“What a conflicting lie!”, a terrified sigh,
The hint of life, just his pair of eyes,
The final countdown has started, of his tender life,
A light has started to pierce his eyes,
A boom has busted his tender device - the gift of listening to The Beatles' song, has just gone, to oblivion.
The gamma rays, piercing the flesh, choking the heart under his chest,
"Chester will be there, and I'll ask,
Not why he died and left this world,
But why did he sang those precious words,
To the crowd so delusional they couldn't understand,
And why didn't he tell the truth of this world,
To the powers who'd believe that lady's stance."
"I am arriving at your beautiful world, where 'the end doesn't matter' and 'imagine' does.
We'll envision a world, where there'll only be the scatter of melodies and harmonies,
Not rays of scars, no glittering stars,
Where the sun will stay, forever in its place,
Where love will rule, and the days of hay, will never end..."
The life's gone, from this place called earth,
On a journey abroad, in its victory march,
All is left is the distorted face - the boy's mask,
As he left to meet his stars,
The un-shiny, real ones...
