Between accepting the denial and denying the acceptance

Life is moving as winter river, slowly and steadily cutting the ice.

I’m aged old young soul thinking of nothingness not fullness.

The swan song had been sung and its tune still the breeze hum.

Revenant is the existence; warming body from flake of extinguished–

Time; possession are lying dugged dip into hardened soiled soul.

The wings, hidden, wants to winged in this nocturnal wind–

Of old aged tired autumn and arriving infant winter.

Accepting the denial denying the deny, the beats shivered–

Flickering the candle kept at threshold throwing–

Shadow of this very moment proving presence of the third person.

Last three lines are metamorphical regarding death.


8 responses to “Blank”

  1. Why are you writing about death so much?


  2. Beautiful work Sangbad. And your last line really puts things into perspective


    1. Thanks Pradita…🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. The swan song had been sung and its tune still the breeze hum. – i love this line Sangbad, speaks of all things faded but still present, sometimes like lives lived unfulfilled. There’s always a soft hum even in the deepest silence, like charged particles in the air, you captured that beautifully here.


    1. I just tried & my pleasure you liked it…

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I love such figurative styles and your metaphor is amazing here!


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