20 April 2014









What hast thou done

With the earthen will

Bestowed upon thee?

On queried the Master

As I stood too stricken

For a voice to emerge


I handed in my slate

It was full to the brim

Of wasted memories

Of a cherished time

When snow fell softly

On the inky rooftops


All that I had dreamt

Once, so long ago

A land of icy dreams

Like a barren soil

Thought till nausea

Trodden on sullenly


I lifted high my glass

In celebration of mist

The blank emptiness

Engulfed me silently

Droplets eerily eating

Into the core of sound


Yet on they plodded

Dreams from the grey

Of nothingness born

Inked out by the frenzy

Of an old shadow of me

Whirling from the void


I dreamt, I said, it seems

These ethereal dreams

Thus recovering stance

I glanced back this time

Eye to eye, brows high,

Standing, unapologetic

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