Friday, June 10, 2011


A dungeon awaits at the dawnbreak,
Where dreams enter
Into rocky, rugged crevices
And look into the eye scathingly;
Oblivious to the temple bells
That roar and exasperate
onto the open fields
My dreams, like dead foetus
Flows into it
Leading me to the ocean of lament
In the hastily sinking universe.
At the dawnbreak-
The world wakes up
to birds, beasts and bells
leaving me behind to
the sound of
a lonely lonesome tear.

1 comment:

  1. " when the mind doesnt have anything on it
    there is no sorrow
    inherent in repeated calls.
    They bear the dew where every peak is distant
    of moonshines bright.

    Whoever hears it like this
    can finish a poem by dawn.

    Wen Chao ( The tibetan monk poet)