The Midas touch relinquished.

As an insignia of yore, the flow

That garnered succour wheezed

For breath. The night lingered,

With sleep vamoose the nest.

Mundane thoughts swiveled 

To the frivolous; once it was

The anthem for all to upsurge.

Dustbins are placed at the

Corner, away from the crowd.

Delving deep into the self,

The tears dropped. The sigh

Heaved for the ashes. The eyes

Are opened to wallow in the glory.

The albatross veined in deep

To have deciphered the ancient 

Mariner. The adrenaline disembogues 

With the fire, breathing for resurrection,

Slicing the wind. The betrayal never

To be spared. Each speck had a 

Story to unfurl, ascending from the ashes,

Leaving the weeds to slurp their feet,

Abashed for their deeds. The night 

Has tumbled to conform to the orders, 

the weeds chastised for their blunders.

By Orbindu Ganga

From: India

Instagram: ordinary_is_beautiful

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