These Beautiful Ruins

Devoid of signs, Clothed in widower gray, Paths blank, mourning.. Above heavens clouded by nightmares: Hovering as vultures, warning of hailstorm: Death of dreams and silent screams.. She hears them.. And darts through the blocks- empty as her heart, calmly bursting.. Lips salted in dust, Smoke filling her lungs, Eyes drawn by curtains of fear: From whom is she running? Rain etch the ground- as another of monuments fall down Blobs of destruction, pieces of wood and plaster- like remnants of her imagination; flying papers of unfulfilled plans; hunger breaking as cups and pots, windows as desires; Glass shattering: hopes; Street lights prostrating under bricks and air cemented in...quite, Suffocating! A ray of light so ancient, Drenched as she's breaking under the weight, blurring in pain.. Nothing left of the ghosts, No one left of her stalkers.. Just the beautiful ruins.. Oh! but this pain is in wane, for there is no shame- in being buried under this wreckage To be smashed once again..