MY DUMB CONSCIENCE

MY DUMB CONSCIENCE

Now I hear it, now I don't,
Is it a voice or a wizard's trick?
Give it a chance to speak? I know I won't,
Because it is the voice of my dumb conscience.
Enticing, tantalizing, alluring forbidden objects prance around
Round and round my premature brain,
They charm my bank of desires
And all that dumb conscience says drains.
I peeped in my inner self and found the handicapped organ
It wailed and wailed and cried,
‘I will return, I will return,
To torture you, ugly fiend, you will find yourself
In grave repentance and I will have you tied'.
Her words of grief pricked me at intervals
And news of my penitence drenched me,
Like winds predict tornado,
Like tides predict Tsunami,
Like snakes foretell earthquake,
That dumb conscience had put me in a dungeon of thoughts.
When in this dilemma, I lay at rest,
A human voice intervened and ended the wrestle.
The match was drawn and the wrestle
Forgotten as a play without an epilogue,
And without a winner, without a loser
The sin, sinner and the dumb referee,
All went to the back of the brain.
I am happy now,
Although her words I heard with diligence,
All this was ‘much ado about nothing',
Maybe she, with her sword, her speech,
Will return, as she said, '....to torture me'.