The wet wind from the west puts outThe last flame from my dreams’ funeral pyre.
And the half boiled, partly saved soul groans
Out of hunger, hope, and greed to die.
Sky turns into dark like the wings of vulture
And the thunderstorm makes the young oaks insane.
Their dark green hands scatter the ashes in the sky
Wind roars , rain wails and birds lose homes.
A trembling white dove finds her shelter
Close to the smoldering dreams in fire.
When dreams’ heart gets fire she feels more warm.
And the dove at ease starts the interrogation with dreams.
First and the last question is,
What’s the inspiration of dying?
Last and the only answer from dreams,
Life is the inspiration for dying.
നന്ദി കൂട്ടുകാരാ.. താങ്കളുടെ ഈ വരികള്ക്ക്... പ്രോത്സാഹനങ്ങള്ക്കും... വീണ്ടും വരാം... എഴുത്ത് തുടരുക...
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