Midst of greens, and running water
Washing the woe, so gently yet
By the cliffs, drenching the hawk's nest
Eroding the forever stones
Only to remind them, to be forever gone
Once the stream was done with them
A few thousand years, at most
I shiver as the drench hits my spine
As my kurti sticks to me, while the wind howls
It is Khandala, mid July, everywhere is, mid July
Now those days have long faded
For long my heart's grief has masqueraded
Only to be eroded, to despair, and rue
While I find no meanings in hills and boughs
Where was I, when I was to be me
Maybe I was too much in control of grief
As this cold rain hits my resentful face
I have nothing to show it, only my solemn solitude
And it's hopeless embrace.
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