Awakening Echoes: 1st Poem of sorrow

In the tapestry of false sorrows, I am awaken,
Are you there, vigilant in the night?
I am a vendor, peddling my wares,
In the celestial dance of stars, I share,
My sky echoing the song of conch shells.

As the city succumbs to slumber's embrace,
In the lone glow of an obscure alley,
I remain awake,
Enthralled in my profound love,
A troubadour in the realm of fictitious verses.

Within the cosmic tapestry,
Immersed in boundless assurances of love,
I endure in the ancient moments of dust,
In the inner sanctum of stillness,
A perpetual nomad in the poetry of ages,
Navigating the afternoon of contrived sorrows.

Beneath the canopy of my thoughts,
Once more touched by the breath of spring,
A phantom caress lingers,
Silent laughter resonates,
Amidst the turbulent waves of reality,
A soaring vessel of youthful verses.
In Neruda's lyrical tapestry,
A history unfolds, spanning twenty chapters, detached from triumph.

Within the continuum of my contemporary epoch,
Bathed in the azure hues of your bewildering quill,
I stand, an extraneous metaphor.
In the city of deceptive words,
I've cherished the singular embrace of truth,
Isn't this the anthem for all?
As Malini has proclaimed,
In the saga of the eucalyptus after the rain,
When the immortal dawn arrives,
A crucible for our weariness.
Then, in the inquiry of the celestial conch,
Evening transpires.
Harmonizing with the melodies of misfortune,
I metamorphose into the Raghini of the starlit night,
From the mortal remains of Jonaki,
Erupting in the genesis of the primal light,
Nocturnal fragrances linger,
In the verses of my fictitious days of sorrow.