Being Nothing To Pen Everything Poem by POET SHUMUKH
Being Nothing To Pen Everything
Being a needle in an ocean
Reflecting like an abyss
Nebula trapped in a drop of ink
The flames sway
Burning down the Fallen
Exultation over their disenchantment
The venomous current washes the Miasma
To restore my sanctity
And under sky, I am still a fragment of the gale
Shumukh, lift the executioner's Quill
To draft a monolith from the silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/11/2026 7:22:36 PM # rel_20260910T140628Z_5ffb431
