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Sitting in a dream,

In a world of their own;

Seventeen lonely warriors,

And two out casted souls.

For some it’s sound,

For some it’s not.

For some it’s sense,

Another song untold.

Talking about silence,

In a crowded norm.

Some stand away,

With thoughts of their own.

Amidst the smoke we sit,

With a story each of his own.

To some it’s sound, to some it’s not,

But no more a story untold.

The eye of the sky, rises and falls;

Shuddering gray onto oblivion’s home.

The warriors, as they sit alone,

Still sit there think the world to be their own.

-          Nirjhar Bhattacharya & Tanzeelur Rahman