Flicking the branches of forest tree, I dreamt

of a day where the calm demeanour was terrific,

as in a sense, it could've gilded down everything in the end—

and the flashes of water, making a crystalized sound

moulding with the trimming of yellowish darkest phase,

and it shaken up, as if someone had vaporised the oxygen

to loosen the molecules.

*

maybe my life is no less than a molecular formula,

dampen water soothes the scarlet red glowing,

but the flames dance through the waving tides,

and it's a fight for excoriating an intense ride,

licking like a feverish famished, smells of wooden charred

prevail a rushing mob to escape from—

A blanket of smoke covers everything.

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