The oozed Scorner mud lay down with balm
When the dark illusion of flotsam

See the disoriented huff off
Quite a lost eclipse,
Shows the burning remains of the demise in shallow water

Death would be like that indebted
I’m left on the empty vacuous of the tombstone
An old traceless in my canyon

Some leave to escape, I will crumble
Desolation, will not be enduring for the next moonlit

last period of dysfunction is lying down,
The light filtering through the leaves in a shady alcove
Moribund womb usually cinaration in this manner also

Loneliness remind me,
a fallen leaf that gets blown around by every mild breeze or a tree that withstands even powerful storm’s

Adieu of exclamation,
The end is not an epic, flaming destruction of the earth

©Ujjwal Roy Chowdhury