Today I pour
My grief.
My remaining ecstasy
Will have a face.
I will empty my life
And the urge to fill it
Will filtrate me
To my core.
I will listen
To my lore.
I will sing.
Tonight, I will ask the
Night to wake up and
Fill the cup of silence.
My mask is my sadness
I will dance with it
To pale moonlight
And the stage of secret threads.
The weaver can unweave my story;
It will still be a web full of life.
The burning candle of grief
Makes me empathetic to others.
Copyright Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
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