The cries of the dead

The dark ruins

Things that have befallen have befallen

In an encased cocoon lay in the hearts of sage A maze bought and sold Featuring faces and sun rays All aligning in motion Gazing at the moon so bright In thunderous night The armours fall Man in the earth’s fallen creeks Bound to the ground, hounded by the demons that never left What if the sorrow stays? In an autumn in shades of spring The ring and brim spaces race to be the virtue of ablutions To be the starlit gaze In the diphtheria of serenity In shocks of emboldening paternity The women folk left the sunset Fleeing back to their coffins Till the dust offsets and shoots in the mirage of a gutted direction In her mundane mornings, she turns He looks, at their xylos and bones hit their brittle sharp necks with embrace humming the sweet serendipitous lullaby At night the dead rise to play the game against culpable populism, they drag the nefarious creature out from its den, slaughter him in the nights of the full moon Wait for the tension to dissipate and let their doom be slated in a tombstone, For all ruins have to fall, All of it has to give in to the darkness, Every beginning has to end with an end. Doesn’t matter if his life was any less grand.

Writing has always been my muse and Medium is redefining my own style for me. I hope if you liked my story, you won’t mind buying a book to drop in my kitty, this keeps me going. Here is the link. And thanks regardless for your amazing and quintessential reads. It matters, and means a lot!

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