Walking on dead leaves covering the grass
to and fro, to and fro in solitude, hiding...

You walk on burning embers
like a black stone...

On wrong side of truth
a prophecy burns...

Cutting across the food wars
against adamant century...

Blood was in season,
on your hands...

Fear grips a family of words.
You are going to where you do not want...

Living between the deaths
as a witness...

I will need
some new words today...

It was a wake up call
invoked...

In twilight of pain
I blink for a dot...

With stoicism writ on face
I invite the chisels...

Holding the thread,
I catch you in midstream...