Musing 101 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

All the bonfires under night cauldron
Are mostly celebration by the dead for returning
Of the darkness in apt moment
To magnify their faces obidient.
The splendor of fires magnificent grown higher
By consuming the hours on bones counting,
Will persist for more of the times as perfect fuel
Fanning the spoils of maternity
To bolster the glory of gutting resolutions
Of sharing their compassions in earthly beds.