The dusk no more golden now
is coated with a crimson tinge
and a sanguine stink prevails.
The petals have withered away
and shriveled stalks remain
pointing in an accusing demeanor
towards the sky.
The hearts are cloistered in gloom
and tongues wrapped in silence
yet eyes in their lachrymose outbursts
write in saline crusts
memoirs of untold grief.
Oh sleeping ones! Blessed are you
here living ones little better than dead
die a thousand living deaths…..
…… should I pray for life
or crave for death?