Poetry ❤️

When the whole world goes,
in the abyss of dreams.
When the mirk starts to kill,
this starved world's screams.

When the sky pours,
infinite peace on the road.
When the fidelity becomes
allusion,
and starts to make mind it's
abode.

Then somewhere on earth,
some melodies born.
Most of them are joyous,but
some of them are deadliest
mourn.

These melodies turn into a
tornado, in a creature's brain.
and this swirling storm emits,
sometimes gaiety and some-
times a terrible pain.

It all settles down,with a little
ink on a page.
And that's how a wordsmith
makes, a beautiful garland of
words, for the world to gaze.

-© Suryam Mishra