15 sept 1<\/p>\n
Moss grew along
\nThe twisted banches in a moist valley
\nDiving deep in a lake of longing
\nI tried to scoop a few oysters
\nBut the pearls couldn’t hold the heat
\nMy palms were burned
\nIn the fire of fury
\nThat the lake emitted in the forest
\nBurning trees, crying birds
\nRed sky
\nSmoky breeze
\nAll the rocks tried in vain
\nThere wasn’t a single train
\nI could have boarded to go away
\nThe rails are, like curved branches,
\nmangled in the volcanic eruption
\nWhy did you
\nExpect, anything to survive
\nAfter the fire
\nThe ire
\nYour mire
\nA desire
\nBurried in the grave
\nOf responsibilities towards the
\nForest which is on fire
\nJust now<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
15 sept 1 Moss grew along The twisted banches in a moist valley Diving deep in a lake of longing I tried to scoop a few oysters But the pearls couldn’t hold the heat My palms were burned In the fire of fury That the lake emitted in the forest Burning trees, crying birds Red … <\/p>\n