Flames Poem by menash mohan shrestha

He rose from his ashes when the fire burnt the dark.
And stumbled forward when you touched him with spark.
The blinds are closed and gaurded with the amulet of paper angels.
Yet you managed to dance in the euphoria ofyour elusive victory.

The truth is your blindfold.
And the rabbit hole the fantasy.
A feast of cannibals in the island of the mutated saints.
Abandoning the hunger in the pursuit of taste.

He has his reasons.
But the monster has her charms.
He has the earthquakes of choices.
But unruffled with the boredom.
And when your wishper ignites.
He shouts at the flame.