An overladen birch
Roots of which stimulate,
Shake, with a stony breath
Under the carpet of wilderness
Stingy insects rushing their way
To the broken heart,
Shattered as much as twigs around
Crumbling of which rustle,
Rustle with sweeping breeze,
Breeze that marked the end
End, a devastating one
Under the hanging birch
As the beetles sung the death march
The paddling flocked together
Dancing in a monotone of calling,
The silence of which silenced them..

Rains bring benevolence
Trickles to spurts
Blowing love and life
In that dead sun's blot
In the beautiful garden
Rains glitter the indigo blue
Harbouring the drainage
Invidious with stroke of brush
That never seem to suffice
Hands that rub jocular sunsets
The bounty of nature's fragrance
Are the hands that are crushed
Crushed into pieces by the creator..