my blood will dry and fly in the air like white droplets.
my bones of body will be dust and ashes.
my flesh will decay to make soil.
my memories on the earth fly away in the grave of time.
but when a sapling will sprout on the dampen soil of rainy seasons from the darkened of the earth.
i will return again from the mould of the earth
It will tell you of me,
i have not die,
am still alive again.
.
©
©subirmitra
S