Grieving woods

The lush green woods of the past,

Now harbour dried and parched trees,

With broken souls,

As if, life had been sucked from them.

As though, they never even had any ounce of life.

Their scorched barks bear,

Endless scars which have been left behind,

And are the only living proof

Of theirs being subjected to,

The brutality of the fires, that forged them.

The remnant of any life of theirs,

The leaves, and the flowers, and the fruits,

Have been charred by these fires,

And now, what remains of theirs,

Is heaps of widely scattered ashes.

It is as though, a massive graveyard of

Hopeless and arid souls

Wallowing in the melancholy of loss

Has been erected,

All across the once green woods.

Now that, there's no source of any life,

Any existence, left in those viciously deserted woods,

Forcibly deprived of lives,

The fires too have left those grounds.

They have simply vanished, in thin air

As if they never existed, in the first place.

And no one now, shall ever know the truth,

For no one rather wishes to know it,

To hound for it.

The truth has been buried deep,

In the same woods, along with the grieving souls

Of the dead trees.