sun bathes in snow,
a few hues melt
to eventually freeze
in the sky
a crepuscular light,
a white grave of memories,
that smells like burnt wood
and fresh dark wine
by the fireplace

a white sheet of blindness,
over a glass of silenced darkness
fire devours
the aching coldness,
the melody,
appeases even gods,

the fangs of frost
***** the petals of the flowers,
some of them will die this winter.
intertwining beauty and death
both of which we seek,
but at different times of life

Some day that sky will crash down
with all it's wrath upon us
and nothing would ever matter.
everything would be dust and bones

We will then realize
that death should not be feared
but be chased upon
with the perfect laughter

forget the followers,
forget the other **** writers,
forget the counts of accolades
forget the defeats of your writings,
forget this night as heavy drunk blur

listen to rhymes of your keyboard
and see the world and it's travesty,
see the lives falling apart,
see the births wailing to life
see the rain,the women,
the racers who share a drink with death
everyday,
the lost lovers,the mad houses
the wars,the sufferings
the beauty of light of first day
and spit it over, use your blood as ink if needed
and be immortal this life
and don't stop till you do.

caress the playful waves,
breathe the snowflakes of this breeze,
stroll the unseen paths carelessly,
in the dreams within your dream,

kiss the dying horizon,
feel the sand below your feet,
embrace the horses that once rode
the beaches,
just like your old memories

besmirch the nightmares slowly,
wake up alone in these hallowed nights,
comfort all what is left within yourself,
feel this earth again without the lights

when it all comes back to you,
and I know it will,
write something beautiful about it,
let those waiting pages finally fill.

it is upto us
to choose,

whether these times
are going to be long
forgotten years,
rotten with bigotry,
stinking of nothingness

or as a testimony
for the times when we
burned our minds and souls
as embers on a cursed night
to never look for the sky ever
in search of a false hope.