Skip to main content

Percy


Alone, Pale I Shall loiter
Limping among the dead
Looking for Percy
All shall abandon me
Words and Friends
Love and Poetry
--
One day I shall find you
by Ozymandias
Another day I shall burn
With you on the pyre
By the sea
The Oceans shall call
And the Mountains beckon
But all will be ash and dust
--
I will rise
burnt and charred
My very soul covered by ash
And I will go to die
by the Pagan lakes
Alone, Pale


 --

 TZ

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Some Other Time

 We will be counting days again, till we say hello again— only for us to say goodbye again. We always knew we’d have to say our goodbyes one day. Then why does it hurt so? Even so, when we know it won’t be long before even goodbyes are a luxury. We cling to hopes— that this isn’t the only life we will live. That one day, we will meet again, in some other life, in some other time, where we won’t have to say   G oodbye.
Post a Comment
Read more

In Barely Discernible Darkness

I will trace the Jhelum Across Your back with my fingers In barely discernible darkness It will form a paisley Drawn from the memory of An imagined Kashmir No language spoken by Man or Gods shall be Uttered that night Words will be melded, Sentences molded to form A new language of love The ink, a fine powdered Amethyst, shall dry as We write its grammar The quill tips, fashioned From old bones, shall Burn in its blaze The room will be Full of scorch marks In barely discernible darkness -- Tz
1 comment
Read more

Indigo Halls of Imagined Gods

In the indigo halls of Imagined Gods of Love, Lovers leave half burnt letters of incense and trails of broken hearts - Among ruins of shattered Love knots, she sits alone Weaving a rosary out of Thin air With longing as its thread and Beads made out of tears -- In the Indigo halls of Imagined gods of Love, The walls conspire and whisper Into her ears Telling tales of unfaithful loves And unrequited desires -- The rags of threads once Tied at the Astans of Hamdan, Lie at her feet, as she sits alone Knitting desolation from the whispers To sacrifice at the altars of the imagined Gods of love 
Post a Comment
Read more