Living a death daily,

becomes a normal chore. It was an intense

realization about the ephimerality

of words, the message appearing,

import dying.

The sparks in your eyes

ignite the earth,

without defiling the blue sky.

It was most elemental.

Walking, chatting

green flames― convey a denial

of condensed thoughts. No

milky way. Farewell to tears.

Until you come, the stars,

the moon will not brighten my

kingdom. A peeled off enigma

still prevails.

There was no daymare.