Syllables riveted
For the edifice of the poem
On the tumulus plinth
Of imagination, 
metaphors bricked one by one
To shape its effulgent facade, 
Emotions woven in 
fabric of imagination
To frame the Casements, 
Experiences drawn from nature's
Infinite plays
to build its roof. 
Tranquillity
Form 
And the array
Holy Trinity 
In serendipity
Blooming in its patio, 
Irises of rhymes 
Dancing their heads 
To the breeze
In domer, 
And oscine of rhythm 
Serenading
On its sill
All Let loose 
And Syllable by syllable
Like a ruined ziggurat
Poem fall apart
smiting chest 
spitting dust
Wailing 
on the "death of the author"
Whose devices were
inconstant strife 
With the thought
And robbed edifice of its life
Now The sighs of the things lisp
"redeemer"
perchance a reader they seek. 

.    .    .