Dream-Abyss

By Aman Sonam

It’s 5 a.m. as I write,

whumps of blades with ambient light.

To think of what my life has brought—

Ethereal, yet of Byzantine sought.

Once a despairing piece of dream,

Finding solace beneath its reach,

As I resurge my tempest dream,

Zephyring breath as I write.

May my reveries be right this time,

Though entangled with sheets of ream.

Oh ! What a blissful morn—

abyss of eloquence,and not a mourn.

It’s 6 a.m. as of now,

whumps of blades with sleepy bow.

To think of what my life can be—

Ethereal and just let it be. 

By Aman Sonam