The world was passing by, like a hurricane to the eye. Caught in the middle of it was all of my soul. Bruised and blooh, sat there untamed. Oh those songs will never be the same again. The clouds will never rain. The birth of a nation was in its destruction a zen once said. And tonight, I shall wear the dark robes of a nihilist and thorns on my head. Bleed from within and smile with my eyes. Walk like a man, secretly fearing all.
Prologue:
She was the lady of broken dreams hidden in laughter peels. Painted on her face were the clandestine secrets, the wind borrowed and dispersed into the stale of midnight. When she raised an eyebrow, arching it with subtlety. Men dropped their guns and rose to their manliness. Oh how she wished she could play the harp and be a celestial clout in a lost black hole.
She had walked many rocky ridges decorated by falling autumn leaves. Crushed.The brook seemed to gurgle tamely as she walked by. Matted were her locks, like honey combs.Her heart was the forest fire. Burning down mercilessly.
And as the horizon took birth in the skies womb ,
many wandering souls, she fed.
Out of her own gatherings ,
she bled, she bled.
Walking by the shore to wash away her woes.
The sea was an invitation of the heavens and just one last step. She would vanish into eternity.
Eternity of the dead.
Cantata:
As she pulled her parasol of seasons,
dusting snowflakes
the hem of her skirt lifted,
a rain of wet wild
many a men, wasted
and somewhere ashore a cemetery
the wolf howled
serenading the moon,
and there she was,
dancing down the cathedral steps
“Mother Mary came to me”
wearing an autumn leaf crown
on her head.
A curtsy and a bow
Who was that, above?
She chuckled
And flipped her head
Her paramour washing
Into the eyes of the beholder
Like a wave that comes to shelter
And just like that,
Back into the ocean she fled.
Elegy :
And as I got up and left the edge of the earth. Back into lifelessness of self, I accepted reality and its fate and listened to the violins in my head. A sonata of parodies, paradise and perdition.
A sense of loss at its best. A fluttering butterfly now dying, came and sat across my palm. And I wondered of its cocoon ? Those colours, delighted many eyes and many lovers held hands. But tonight, who shall lament this little angels death?
5 comments:
Of all the dreams you dreamt, I wonder how many were lost?
Go with God.
Or maybe some dreams just take longer.
Lost is a paradoxical word.
They were lost because they needed more than me.They were bigger.
Someday I will be.
God is for the ones who can't find happiness within.
I make my god.
There is no happiness within. There never will be.
Words will not fill your void.
Ignorance won't blind you forever.
You will never undo time.
I leave you with nothing.
And you will remember.
Do you talk about yourself so precisely?
Words must not be given any more credit than they serve.
The only thing I am ignorant about is your identity.
Time can never be undone, by anyone.
Nor can words and their power to kill.
Of course I will remember, but at least I know that I choose happiness over bitterness and I am content.
you gotta remember your happiness matters the most to you :)
and when you are happy the people who love you are happy too :)
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