Under the mango tree where the shade is dark and deep
she waits with years on her skin.

The face though weary with the burden of time
has not yielded to the fate
of having once loved and lost.

She believes the winds from the barren field
will one day carry the rustle of footsteps
raising a song from within earth
that the moment is arrived
for the dead river to rise in tides
and flood her cheeks with the sapplings of
all the unplanted kisses.

When the nights come
the fireflies would sing
love is such a beautiful thing
basking in the glow of her heart.

Can you tell me, where
the tunnel ends. The curve has
flattened. There was no light.

In pillars of wasteland,
why did we reach there?
Death-kissing starts now.

The power of questions
will not mitigate your arrival.
Where will we drown?

upon the globe
a nuclear winter did descend
upon the globe
it was attired in death's robe
thereby bringing a total end
to humankinds existing trend
upon the globe