Basking in grasp of carnations, soft
Warm, lost in truth and wings of soot
Flick and slip away but you stand as just you
Yours I am, gulps of unknown dust
I drink it, astray from your path
You, on your own, similar to a falling star
You look blanch, foam wrapping around
Vanishing my roots of origin in black
But you stay standing still in hoary land
Whom you stop and watch as sunrays howl
Yamuna calls for a chrysalis of vigour
Your flora apart as you buzz a cry
Now I photograph your murky soul
Craving to crush that crux
Who brought us dismay, a stout oak.