Ashes rest in a common urn.

I know the taste of a retiring sun;

and I know how a dying day smells,

like lilies of corrupt waters swells-

the sun and the day bemourn the faint moon.

A tired moon stares on with languid eyes,

casting shadows of despair upon condensed souls,

in whom disabled life crawls-

like warms in freezing summer ice.

And When I rise with the midnight silence,

to the embrace of the tangible and dense darkness,

I let my mind wonder through the blankness

of a tormenting sea with no defense.

Like the mound reddens by fall of rain,

so will my ashes rest in the common urn.

© Bunguswa ™