Renaissance

The honey tasted bitter, the flowers smelled foul
The smoke choked the windpipe, the flashes hurt the eyes
Spirits lay abandoned on the long road to home
Empty handed he walked the ungrateful path
the one he had nourished with his smile, empty handed
He had got nothing to lose, he had got everything to lose
He had renounced all it took to kill an old rotten poem
The city knew the half-truth, the deaf, dumb and faceless city
Woken up by a dream from a short nap,
bled the vision that drove all fears away
Amidst words that echoed in the graveyard, mere words spoken time and again,
Could this be the hour of Renaissance ?
As I won't meet him again, a question lingers on
Shadows don't die when light comes alive,
then what is that was cremated today?