Last Song of Vishnu

a poem by Aroon Che

Tomorrow, the doors will be banged,
And the window panes will be broken,
The roofs will begin to crack out of heat,
And the walls will slowly shrink to your skins,
Your skyscrapers will crumble like sand castles,
The roads will get narrower and blind.
Your hospitals will run out of medic and beds,
Your courts will go deaf to law and order,
Your children will go wild in schools and jump off roofs,
Your parents will find this noise as their last lullabies,
There will be a death in every birth,
There will be a fight in fairness,
There will be a madness in every silence,
There will be a devil in every god.
That’s when I’ll come out of myself,
And you will hide behind your grief.
This is peace, this is the end,
This is peace , this is my command.