Pralaya The Dissolution of All Worlds

No star remembers its name.
No god holds their flame.

The wheel of time cracks at the hub,
Mount Meru crumbles, the serpent’s blood
Floods the three worlds — no sky, no ground,
Only the drum’s uninterrupted sound.

The sun drowns deep in Shiva’s throat,
The moon explodes — each note a mote
Of what was called “real” by the blind.
Now dissolution rewinds mankind.

Fourteen realms in a single blink,
Ganges of ash, no shore, no brink.
The cosmic egg — devoured, then shown:
From wreckage rises the seed alone.

Pralaya;, Pralaya;!
N;tyati ;a;kara;!
Sarva; ;;nya;
Tat tvam asi

Every universe — just ash in His palm.
Every Buddha, every psalms —
Collapsing fractal, lotus, worm —
The Destroyer loves no form.

I am not the god of gentle rain.
I am the termite in the grain,
The black hole’s smile, the supernova’s cough,
The one who tears the fabric off.

You prayed for preservation? Wrong address.
I am the beautiful nothingness.
I kill the world to kill the want —
Then plant a new one, nonchalant.

Fourteen realms in a single blink…

Pralaya;, Pralaya;!
N;tyati ;a;kara;!
Sarva; ;;nya;
Tat tvam asi

No world remains.
No tear, no name.
Only the drum —
One slow beat —

…and a lotus seed
in Shiva’s palm.