PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

After self-immolation, 
what has been left with me 
except the poems. 

The tree will not speak now. 
There was a good run-off 
from the surface of golden leaves. 

I will not meet the music 
of sunset. There was a constant 
flow of murmuring thoughts at night. 

The narrative remembers the - 
departure, but does not expect 
anything from moon. 

I will remain awake till 
the dawn, then go 
to a long sleep.