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