A whiff of gloom,

like spring in bloom,

engulfs this eerie night;

When stillness grows,

out of a tattering twilight,

with unborn fears,

escalating to newfound heights.

It smells of hope,


burnt optimism,

of a lover’s promise about eternal love.

This beautifully mystical end to a sublime day.

Here the chiming of bells,

there a voice,

lingering around me,

repeating my name.

A squall of air that burns this skin,

fickle faith and terror within.

The wind blows down to me,

and like a misty breath

flickers a flame,

out of a phoenix that dies

and is reborn,

from folklore,

alive in parts,

beating up a dead furore.


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