Season Of Mist Poem by Aathira Parakkkal

I feel a chill
The numb coldness everywhere,
That coldness of death
Creeping into my bones.
I could feel,
The heat of life
Slowly dying inside me,
The very sweet memories
Slowly fading away,
I did not rebel,
I did not cry,
Ah, surprise! I did not fear
Of life’s inevitable end!
O, It is not death
But only the winter of life
The season of fog,
The season of mist!
Awaiting the summer’s approach,
Of new birth and new joys!
When even the last corner of the pane
Is covered in misty white,
I would have drunk the very last drop
From life’s ethereal cup,
My soul would have then found
Its eternal abode in search so far!
It is sleep no more,
It is rest no more,
The infinite happiness of living
The ultimate awakening of life!