Turning me blue blithe thoughts had come
like snakes wriggling, biting, leaving tooth marks.
I remained holding a dew drop on the blade of grass.
Essence was untouched.
Night will change its dialect after a casual death.
I contrive no more assemblage.
No condolence for the razed home.
The flames will leap again from words
to describe the inspiration,
as the sprouts break the earth.
When the logic ends a kiss melts
on the lips of fire.
The rainbow pierces the clouds
At the interface of sky.