Hours of Flower

(i)

Nights ago,
We walked the floor
Where the river
Ran no more.
Parched and dry,
Yet deep inside,
Secrets of life
Never had died.
Thorns grew thick
On every side,
But blossom all around
Held their pride.
Hand in hand through memory,
Around sweetest hour
Life that thrives, Life was flower.


(ii)

Our memories are
Dry leaves.
Dead but upon crushing
sing sweet.

(iii)

Life is not sky
But you are a bird.
You are not an artist
But life is an art.

Rivers die in riverbed
Love fades to hatred
And time passes by.
You never fly
Fly your heart
Still you are not a bird;

Fancy kites rise high
And life
Is not a sky



(iv)

I loved peoples
And flowers full grown
I loved unloving
Truths of thorn.

(v)

Nights are nocturnal,
Wandering long,
Moving ahead
Like a sleepless song.
While the rest retire to sleep,
The hours awake
Are the secrets they keep.
​They breathe like a whisper, a soft lullaby,
Watching the stars as time passes by.
Into the heart of the darkness they cast
The weight of the day that has faded at last.
​For nights do not sleep;
They are guardians of rest,
Holding the promises
Locked in your chest.
A quiet reminder, in shadows so deep,
Of all of the promises you wanted to keep.