Poem By machi prasad

Like the falling leaves each dream just dies
Leaving a tree that is devoid of life
Drying under the harsh sun
A man walking by
Wonders whether to chop it or let it live
A choice that is neither wrong nor right
Waiting to see the light
Waiting to see the healing light
and all I see is the burning, burning light
A match to the pyre of life

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