Solitude

By Kayin Borang

The world burnt like wildflowers, and I wept,

As I buried it in the moss of earth.

And the quietness lingered; which swept

Away my bloody grief to lonesome mirth.

And beside the brook, a thyme prance lonely,

In motions of glee with the chilly breeze,

Sufficed at its state of solitary,

As my form recedes amidst the wild trees.

Unknown to hours bleeding as deep I went,

Miles and miles into the heavenly woods,

Where in the glades, my fractured soul amends.

For amidst I became one with the roots.

Oh! The sun sets solemnly in the vast sky,

As I sat grasping the creatures fly.

By Kayin Borang