The scarred bulbul waits for spring
in my wounded valley,
The winter didn't bring anything,
no remedy for her broken wing.
The moon rises over the darkened city,
Another day passes, no news of him, nothing.
The stars halve into two;
One smiles, another cries with me this evening.
Their empty houses haunt me at nights,
I often find myself in them while they're burning.
The beginnings have ended before even beginning,
Life has seen death without even living.
Photo & text : @kashmirthroughmylens