Those sifting clouds
And their shifting shapes,
Like flames high up in the sky
Lit by the sunlight,
Struggling to survive, about to die.
The darkness, the shadow
Creeping over- stealthily, silently,
Consciously staying away
From the last of the flames,
That burn astray.
The last of the life
Slowly moves,
Towards the last ray of hope
Their lives entwined,
Like a knotted rope.
The smoke that rises
From my ashes,
Ascends in spirals
From the grave of my dreams,
Of all unspoken desires.
As I burn...
As I burn...
