The moving finger writes.............

To speak, or not to speak, That is the question; Whether ‘tis better to suffer fools and their babble, Or to use the acid tongue and end them all. Whither is the right way- Tact or forthrightness, Mindless snides and chatter, Or opinions that mean what they say? I much prefer the latter; But then, I do so at my own risk. To speak, perchance to scream, Ay, that’s the rub, For, at the height of screams, What solitude may come, When we have shrugged off this mental toil. (Thanks, William Shakespeare, and my apologies for twisting your words)

Empty roads are back again, The sound of silence muffles the din Of life and  living. I drive on, in the shadow of the hills, On a distant highway. The sun sets Behind the Sahyadris In a haze of crimson red. In the darkness, I see the distant necklace of lights Surrounding the city. Twinkling lights On the surrounding hills. Soon I will be back Among the city lights. I drive on, each mile hesitant, Before I turn back To life and living.