November has burn the bridge of bliss.
Uncertain of the circumstances,
I am now engulfed with the misery
that comes in beautiful waves.
This November resembles a prejudiced game;
for whatever stage I am winning,
I am actually losing.
There are no medals and crown awaiting;
still I run fast only to let my chest hurt.

Through the dots of life,
I used all the strength I own to trace it;
like a mere traveler.
Never had I possess a courage to sketch lines to my desire.
So, I step back to see the trail of that dots.
We are disconnecting;
detaching, that is what we are.

You are now gone;
becoming a piece of unbalanced memory.
November has burn us to the ashes in the air, yet
I am still here, trying to not let the ashes from ceasing
in hope for it to rebuild us once again.
With this small poise of hope I gather,
I know – eventually these ashes will form itself a better sculpture;
a pleasing, aesthetic one.

Be that as it may,
I shall keep the ashes; a piece or two
to mould this shattered grail I had for both of us.

For all I need is faith,
For all I need is faith.