In my dream last night,
I was swirling in slow motion
within a deep bluish whirlpool

I couldn't breathe
or feel anything,
all I saw was my past
swirling around me

the fear and the failures,
gloom and the despair,
love and the promises,
all swirled for my eyes

It was a slow dance
in a burning room
and I wondered whether
it would stop or not?

the darkened horizon
will attracts no birds today

the storm
won't adore the weak

a walk on the shores
would be a blind suicide

for the moon's love
would conjure the sea

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