Staging the abyss of an impending cessation
The dark expanse lays stretched across
And beneath, in its surreptitious labyrinths
Lay white dreams to unravel, in time, lost

Under this glittering montage of departed souls
Lies a troubled night, in hand, a palette it bears
Whether a plaintive hue should grace the occasion
Or an ebullient serenade, the birds shall hear

The very earth, where countless crimson streams hath flowed
Withholds a pungent smell, which the rains shall release
And it gazes impassive, into the void
Awaiting the faltering steps that shall forever cease

And vestiges of times, the trees, they sway
Casting queer shadows in the placid waters below
And the ghostly gushes, the leaves, they tug
Reverring the end, bow in a vaudevillian show

And silence reverberates across the woods
Strings of the harp, wildly they swing
And the invisible hand twitches them to its insatiable thirst
Into the endless night, silent melodies it sings

Dancing to the minstrelsy exhibition
Struck by the virulent, a red leaf alone it spins
The dampened wind materializes, glides along
With a picturesque elegance, to its deathbed, it brings

And with this servitude of wind, nature has toyed around
Of countless summers with it, had dreamt
And though it lies in its cold, wintry grave
For a vivifying spring, the duel begins

And as it lies trampled, a votive
Cherishing the last marks of the wind it shall entail
A man, none brighter than the mist around
Dawdles forward, facing the vestibule of his mundane fate

With a perpetual stoop, the timeless wonder
A paradigm of an immaculate creation perfected by age
And this derelict entity, with dipping eyebrows
Limps along into the ubiquitous haze

And this crude parody of child
Moulded and crafted by the sands of time
Marks the finale of His greatest creation
As the crying infant rings the opening chime

The few strands of hair, they humble the infanceness
The folds of skin hang loose
And the staff handles his feathery weight
Boundless patience, with prudent steps he moves

Sans tooth and blind, deprived of sounds he is
He craves for the innocent chuckle of a newborn
And its ethereal touch that shall span generations
Shall light the moribund, for the new morn

The weight of his past closes his eyes, tears glisten
He remembers the touch of his mother's *****
And the lullabies she sang, sleepless nights
Pages of his memoirs lay blotten

And the feel of the grass, on the verdant landscape
The sun gliding upon the waters, sweet summer afternoon
And the open seas mocking it with a ripple
And the shrubs wave beside some kingdom's ruins

The birds romancing their way through the canopies
The butterflies find their way through flowery drowsiness
And the eyes of his love that he used to behold
And her hand on top of his that used to rest

His decrepit limbs, he trudges along
The stars shimmer above, light up the way
Fulfilling the tryst, with open arms, he embraces Death
The sweet memory of her love fades

And far away, into the distance
A dawn blossoms, rises up the shores
And a young one laughs, greets the despondent night
Shaking his clenched fists, catches the dreams that soar