Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Doom, Impending

When the edges break
The grains make sand
Water makes an ocean
The shape adorns a form.

Hands ache fingers
Roots wish for light
Flames pray to be still
Vines caress summer, survive.

And darkness has no beginning
For it has no end.

But the shadow is a circle,
It only grows bigger.
And all that is left,
A silhouette
As the waves approach.


deekshita said...


Aazar said...

Thanks Deekshita! :D