Miasma of Memory
The pall of gloom hovers over the sea of sorrow,
surges in turmoil tempest to my mental meadow,
melts to make the stream of tears to flow covert
as “the clouds spill a thousand secrets”.
The mordant brine of dissolved distress,
shaped in tear drops the eyelashes design,
slowly slides down my deserted visage vale
with the pent-up pile of dream debris.
Torrent of tears congealed in cold dereliction
carries the shriveled shards of broken heart,
rushes to reach the warmth of your yearning arms,
and become “love-drunk on desire”.
The flames of inferno of your lingering longing
blaze the enshrined essence of my frigid life,
“melt my tears into your sweet fire”;
the mesmeric mist creates the miasma of memory.
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