ink spilled
over papers or parchments
by the devoted disciples,
to govern for the unseen holy authority
never imagined that their devotion,
would be so misunderstood
that the rivers would be full of blood,
crusade would be full of cries of children
and a symbol or a petty face
would conjure fears
in generations to come

when a smile can't guide to us love
but a scripture can guide us,
to hate that is when you know
that the world is doomed not due to lack of love
but due to ignorance of it.

If your words
have the spark
to burn away
the rudimentary thoughts
and aflame the irrational nights
for even a single reader

then it was worth
to spend years
to become a pyromancer
of words that lights
the lives

Curled up
in a corner

staring at the mossed walls
amidst the light that devours fireflies

the petrichor is now stronger
than all the ales I had

this reverie
the imagery shows no sign of ceasing

and with everything coming back to me
I am ready to stumble again

and fall every step
to write and rewrite

the joy is somewhat incessant
like it always has been.

Lo Behold for the time has come,
to raise the glasses
for the worthy unsung

it is the day they embraced death
as a good old friend, with respect

the rains will dance
and lightning will cry

they did not went alone
in the darkest night

someday sometime one has to take a leap
with eyes open and heart asleep

let us celebrate the honorable dead
with the brightest faces, tears unshed

Lo behold the time has come
to raise glasses
for the worthy unsung

entwined scents
and a divine grace
a sombre gaze across the room
that sent all hearts to race

days passed and so did nights,
nothing was so vehement ever
than those beautiful eyes.

I have been a dreamer
since that day then,
to conjure an eternity in a moment
maybe it was her only sin.

a speck of cosmic dust
or a tiny dot
in the blackened emptiness
full of mystical voids

life has flourished here
even in the savagery and butchery
of flesh,minds and even souls
all in the lands floating in blue

yet we are not terrified
or stupefied of our existence
neither grateful nor pity
for this spectacle

or maybe the light
is at the end of the tunnel
and me walking in opposite
or worse running blind.