Lyres gilt w/ kaumarya leaf,
Accompanied by a peacock’s conceit,
Pierce the barricades of a hindering darkness
Whereby revealed is the flicker of an occulted light
Whence crows, en sackcloth, take whispery flight
That is the moment
The crown of woe is w/drawn
The very moment u realise
U are NOT 4saken;
Ganga’s shimmering flow has not abated and
The forge has not grown cold,
Unable 2 cook the red sulphur,
Temper iron, and distinguish
A broken heart from
A broken soul
© The Herder 20Nineteen
Lupa Press 