A Silent Storm

If it were just the lies

a gash or two for say,

a ripple would have been born,

and end tomorrow or today.

A systematic butchering of trust whereas

with cold untruths and stories fabled,

creates a wave of emotion so wild,

that washes away all reason and its child.

After the storm ends, and you see the straws of

what used to be your home, your shelter , spread afar ,

the reason gets all the more immaterial. a myth. a consolation

which is only mocking in nature and humiliating in attitude.

the only thing left to do, is to pick up the pieces and start anew.

And you know, there and then , that

it is not going to be the same and h

however far you may go looking,

you will never find all the straws.

the storm can unleash itself anytime and

shred your hopes to pieces , but then ,

what can you do but hope again?

in hopes that the straws will be found.