Gone is the dark era
Of shrouded hurts
And shriveled skins
Kissed by ghosts...

How the epilogue of light
Emerged from them
Untouched pages; a new story
Born from a dying senescence...

The vicinage changed colours
For the holy nuptials of
Wallflower and meadowsweet
Mirthful yarrow adorning
Their connubial beds...

And when the melancholic
Sadness left, leaving the carcasses
Spring stood by, singing eulogies
Adorning graves with tulips; forever
Alive in folklores of vernal equinoxes...

-

With the first ray
Of sun that morning
I heard Winter come
With all its bearings...

Crisp wind, devoid of
Gentleness, cuts skin like
Broken glass pierces your
Finger tips, but there's
Beauty in spilling blood
A chance to grow brand new...

Like the trees naked, shrouded
In white veils, conifers
On guard, pointing swords
Glistening in sunlight
Waiting for their turn
To change into something
Green and warm; to be
Reborn; a new, better
Version of themselves...

Perhaps, it is the lesson
Mother nature passes onto us
Every year; a beautiful reminder...
Live life and make mistakes
Only to be born again,
Making this world a little bit
Better than yesterday...

-

They say we all
Have our quirks.
But, my oh my
This Autumn
Epitome of
Idiosyncrasies.

Aftertaste of Spring
Singing paeans
Of hope...
Harbinger of cold
Whispering requiems
Of deaths in grey snow.

Rara Avis I must say
A symbol of both
Life and death
A breathing oxymoron
Touches our core
Every revolution...

And when it leaves
An apopemptic adieu
Some find peace
In frozen carcasses...
Some rosy with
Sanguine expectations
A life after these
Endless boreal nights.

-