You leave your weapons in the temple
And hide yourself in the argil
I can see you in the oceans, placating the deserts.

My words are mortal
You are sleeping in the pious den
And love the terrible sleep like your son

The fragile mirrors tangle the world
And everywhere I found the illusion
Make my tears in to rain
And let me lave your feet

Breaking the doors of gloomy nights, you dwell in me
As you dwell in the endless sky
Words are mortal
Give them life
Let them chant
Let them echoing in the sky

Suchayan Ghosh
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 10/22/2019 The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.