The Rocks That Melt Poem by Ravin Sharma

Words are frisk but not frolic,
enslaved due to wars won by our logics.
We don't have to live in this heat,
but the sun we aim to beat
is farther than our senseless dreams.

Beneath one such sun, once lived a boulder,
shadowing a rattle, for ages as it got older.
The bold baking boulder lived in a pride,
even though the heat in the desert strides (strode) .
A tired traveller arrived there for rest
looking for a shadow before the sun set.
But the wretched rock being raged,
though kissed him away
as if the rage ended inside the boulder,
but the god enraged the traveller
to whom he prayed for the troubles to end.
But how could the god set?
The prayers however were answered
with the boulder being frowned
for the silence it sent to the god.
The wretched rock melted,
the wrathy rattle roused
and bit the traveller for the dying boulder
as it ran for some other shadow.

We are the travellers,
words are the snakes,
there are fewer who are rocks-
rocks but they melt.