an ode to the dead

 The oaky pier still consumes

The living can’t embrace the darkness

The heavens await the glorious return

The nether craves for what is left

The ashes fragile and precious 

Get carried into the summer gust

The living wail and mourn, forget what remains

The reminiscences of the ones who left 

The memories are my ashes

Ashes that visit, the ashes that prevail

My only suffering is from within

The pain of unending bonds and obscure lives

The silent walks I cherished, the stories of his younger selves

Gone are the days of tranquil summers

The autumn of despair returns,

The window will guide the summer gusts

The gusts that sustain his ashes

His memories are my ashes.

-Abhinav Sardesai