Saturday, 1 August 2020

Ananth M Adhyam, Poetry 2020, Featured Writer

In the Vale of Spiti



In the vale of Spiti,

Where the winter winds howl,

I sold my soul,

For a piece of ancient stone.

A thousand dreams buried themselves,

In raging torrents,

Placid green in murky brown,

All for a single stone.

A million flakes of longing,

Left to melt away,

Fresh snow on dusty earth,

All for a lone black stone.

I watched my words fade away,

Into the icy night,

Vanishing amongst the stars,

For a lone silent stone.

In this cacophony of dreams and longing,

A single, silent, stone I am,

In search of a soul,

That now wanders free,

In the vale of Spiti,

Where the winter winds howl.

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