Trialogue

No matter the perils
Amidst all torn thrills-
11 pm is a time-space
For the mind to unwind.
The three cities connect
Forming a Bermuda Triangle,
Over the sordid country's earthy chest.
And the words held back-
Pour into the ears much taken for granted.
What my thoughts cannot shape-
Find form in the other two pairs trusted.
All the tears held back
Throughout the day,
Find vent in the hearts,
That'll never scorn the downtrodden.
To them , thus, I entrust the sorrow of defeat,
Or the zigzags of bumpy joy-stories.
From my pillars,
I hear,
The common man's story-
And the bleakness fades to reveal the shy sun
Hiding behind the clouds.
It's a source of strength, support and sanguine security,
In  my otherwise unfertile and poorly textured,
Sandly loam beneath my sole-less feet.
As I stand dejected,
With back against all,
The other two have gotmy back-
All the way till eternity.
Together, the trio,
Hash out the twenty something problems,
And unwind - not seeking any solution.
The 3 pairs of eyes
Have seen much of the world.
The dark hideous underbelly of it,
As also the changing colors,
Of faces much known.
Yet in the company of the threesome,
Lonesome days and nights,
Cross one by-
The pinch is not felt,
But once again cherished hopes are shared.
The trialogue marks the beginning of the day,
When the night is almost about to end.
Yet throughout the day,
It's the only thing much awaited.
For its nothing but the truth,
And the surety of love supreme.
While all around falls,
Like castles in the sand,
Washed away by the cruel tides.
The trialogue may run the same channel,
Hum the same tune.
Yet the unending meanders,
Stand for integrity,
In a world fast dying,
With deception running amok.
Mocking the much apprehended diurnal tyranny,
The threesome sail through the gails-
Riding through the breathless peals-
That much lovingly feel real.
In  the grey globe,
The trialogue stands as testimony of longevity.
That foundations can be strong,
And love maybe built on them to forever exist.
When nothing lasts forever,
And fickle hearts change and entangle you,
Like quicksand in its vice-grip-
The trialogue serves a mast
And an anchor,
To the boat that rides shaken.
For always and more,
In wonderment, I thank the Almighty-
Forever and more,
Shall the trinity be a unity.