Read Time:38 Second
Inside me,
I could hear the sound
Of fire munching dry woods;
I could see rebellious sparks
Breaking from embers.
The ashes are afloat;
My sight is foggy;
All I could see
Is the dying twinkle of a tiny spark.
What was said to the sun
To make it rise again
And again over
The eastern walls?
What was said to the moon
To lure it out in the dark
After fiery sun was conquered
In its bid to breach the western walls?
I beseech these ancient words
Be melted into my mold;
I beseech these words
Be incensed to my breaths; for
Inside me,
The fire is my woe;
The woods are my dreams;
And the sparks are
What’s gone and left of my hopes.
