There is no stirring rain

The spring flowers are moist and crestfallen, the last white-flower of season 

Lost and dead into the tainted sea. The sea is sequestered and brown sands, unheard wishpers into the damp wind. The plants and creatures are disappeared, only the dejected sea.

Water, no more water into the deep sea, mermaids are no more, only the piles of rotten logs and whimpering dogs.

Time is unreal, empty-eyes, white papers, and the scary night, the lonesome spirits looming everywhere, 

Rose the love, last year departed,

Left the home and forgot the voice of soulful songs, and the red-petals are bruised 

and the bottomless sea thrives 

A winter flower buried deep into the chamber of violet-tinted ocean 

Seen no where, lost and zonked out---

and the acts of seven ages 

on the vast and void shore 

Immersing into the cabin of sea 

And no bird 

And no tree 

Only the turbulent time 

Sea is vacant and vacuum 

Water, slimed and contaminated 

A lonely tree in the parched up field 

Broken and disruptive 

Looking at the black sky 

but there is no stirring rain ...