Conscience

I am not my brother’s conscience keeper
He keeps it safely, hidden from my eyes
And  at all times, from his own live eyes.

His eyes are live with plastic conscience,
Made of plastic , 20 microns and above,
Safe limit for bacteria to degrade bodies.

Resolution’s native hue is not sicklied o’er
With pale conscience and highly anemic,
In  a shortage of body iron lost in periods.

A moon has lost conscience over his roof
And has turned pale in the aftermath sky
Having lost body iron in lunar monthlies.

A conscience is dead but I am not keeper.
Yet I do my filial duties towards my dead,
Bury  it deep ,so as not to be native ghost.

 

(Reference is to the Greek tragedy Antigone by Sophocles)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s