The Thirst Poem by Rijan Britanicus Acharya

The frozen dawn lifts up the sign
of the cold eyes. There beside the curtains
the visions isolates the burden
pumping the lowering pulses and
carving the dejection on the white deserts.
When he saw the dream the thirst
reassembled like the defeated armies
so cowardly objecting the liberty
for the thirst of breathes,
but yet when the grace paid under his feet
a homage he still begged for the pride
of lordship blew like a mirage;
his dreams on the heights of defeat
was made a flag and a symbol
where the hearts of the fallen men
prayed and also the shrine to carve
just was left unfinished.
He just dreamed of the loss
that was never gained through any
thoughts or dreams or reality.
the frozen dews and the frozen dawns
all lifted his cold eyes below the
sign of the foiled man
never destined to govern
either his own victory
or the chronic loss.