It drifts in like a murmuring mist,
veiling the landscape of the heart.
It lingers in the quiet corners,
a shadow cast by fume's departure.
In the stillness, tears trace
the contours of loss,
each one, a witness to memories
refuses to fade.
Within this ache,
a seed of resilience lies dormant,
awaiting the gentle touch
of time that heals a wringed hand.
Through the fog of delusion,
glimmers of hope emerge,
guiding us towards
the dawn of a new beginning
embracing wonted whispers.
We honor the depth of our
holding breaths melting into
the live sizzling hearth.
It finds the strength to journey ahead.
By M K Mishra
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