Slinging scribbles

A Santa cap hangs forlornly on the stand, stranded in the carnival of dust, The jingles of the bells have long been a  passé , Longed then, lost now. A corpse lies amidst a neatly laid structure of woods, breathing ashes, living; leaving the ebullient flames, Prism that emitted a thousand behaviors has just passed, longed then, lost now. The apotheosis of life is lost in struggle, The journey of give and take has finally ended, Now its time to turn into a residue and respect the grave, Seems like a chimera, the search for the terminal! We want, we got, we yearned more, we lust, we struggled, we burnt.  Longed then, lost now.  

Silence that pervades the test, And dreams that were made but put to rest. Its a dull night, Not even a beggar's sight. Its only the blades that are making the run, Its just the fan, the clock being the other one. Its the night that tasted many a water, That shared too many whispers on the platter, Just as today, just as now, But unlike yesterday and how! Not a musing of past that reverberates, Not a person that was dear and that mates, Yet novelty must remain new, Like on a blade of grass with only a speck of dew. Its no use getting used to the night, For it will do nothing but leave a harsh sight. Let the zeal for life be tested, Let the silence be not wasted.