English Poem | Aayush Shrestha

In the hush of dusk when the world won’t slow,

And thoughts like wolves in the shadows grow,

There comes a leaf with a velvet breath,

That pulls me back from the edge of death.

 

A flicker, a spark — the ritual dance,

Smoke curls up in a ghostly trance,

Each inhale a prayer, exhale release,

Each drag a dose of borrowed peace.

 

The weight that bent my spine all day

Begins to melt and drift away.

The walls inside that echo loud

Turn soft beneath this mellow cloud.

 

No pills, no gods, no perfect plan,

Just nature’s touch in a trembling hand.

It doesn’t preach or try to cure,

But wraps the ache in something pure.

 

Some say it’s sin, a slow decay,

But they’ve never watched the night turn gray

And felt a leaf undo the chain—

A quiet balm for unquiet pain.

 

So let the world keep all its speed,

I’ll sit with silence, smoke, and weed.

Not lost, not found—but briefly free,

In green’s soft grip, I let me be.