The Figure and Her

Like a perfect morning Spring breeze,
Like a rare galactic celestial star,
Like an iron heart beating for a lost twin,
Mesmerising momentarily in greater depth,
At a figure, she paints from the unknown,
A mixture of shadows, a masterpiece, a landscape,
For her to soar, like a bird,
For her to cherish, like a treasure,
For what life brings her, like this figure,
And so, it starts to dance to her smiles,
Stargazing at her beating heart that twinkles afar,
And in turn, she snows nearby landing on its cheeks,
Hearing its whispers as she silences the world,
For seven hours straight, the figure is her all,
For many more at night, she is its delicate soul,
Without her, the figure is emotionless,
The son of a concerned mother,
The brother of a proud sister,
The aging father of a little girl,
To it, she becomes the definition of home,
A place to hold onto and to always return,
A shelter to its heart, a constellation to its mind,
An ongoing novella depicting the merging of souls,
Linguistically phenomenal as both start to realise,
A preface of dubbed barriers to never lose a translation,
A chapter of tones to reach complete perception,
And yet, a different chapter consumes all emotions,
Like a breeze that comes and goes,
Like a shooting star nowhere to be found,
Like a heart that switches to a highborn,
The plot thickens and the twist befalls,
A heavenly meeting was decreed for a resolution,
Three decades holding onto nomadic tents,
Leaving few years thinking to never come back,
And yet, this figure, out of nowhere comes back,
Part of the desert, earthly merged for eternity,
For what reasoning this soul comprehends
Is beyond the logical laws of a galactic universe,
The figure and her are just a story of a great return.

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For My Self

Reluctant was I to stand ground,
My own self in total disregard,
I may lift weights overhead,
Yet, mine holding me down,
And I may talk to others nonstop,
But will the ‘silence talk’ ever start?
And I may read others’ faces,
Whilst mine buried underground.

So here is to the era of recovery,
To the morning light of my moon,
To the midnight rise of my sun:
An early bird – for a lasting lullaby,
An invention – for an open mic,
A dew – for a refreshing smile,
A postcard – for a self-reflection,
So here is to how I stood my ground.

Engraved Whispers

As old and magnificent as a banyan tree,
I sat by the unearthed curved roots,
Eastern celestial hand holding its leaves,
While the other is wrapped around its bark,
A dance ceremony to hear its whispers,
Symbiotically shared with soothing birdsongs,
Angelic beings roaming to find harmony,
However, a green leaf will soon depart,
And along with it will the hanging lanterns fade,
Except, if you truly saw the heart of the tree,
And the whispers it wrote on the walls of
Imperial palaces to root their thrones,
Then you will realise the hope in igniting
Your heart to beat melodiously once more,
Because there is no reason to pause a life,
Like birds, constantly ascending the heavens,
And so, I must relay its whispers to another,
But within it you shall always be engraved.

Unwarranted Addiction

Predators masked as youthful birds,
Soaring over the wilderness of free souls,
Spreading poison on ripened fruits,
Fragrances delivered for suicidal seduction,
And as you dance to their melodic birdsongs
You get chained to their psychopathic beauty,
An unwanted addiction – unwarranted,
Darkness becomes your smiles,
Ignorance your laughs,
A euphoric moment in a dysphoric life,
And then the mask cracks,
Waiting out the addiction.

Rest In Pieces

Blow the minds of the universe
And show me the curses of mankind,
If I have not created more paths,
More people will surely suffocate me,
Betray all that I have said to you,
All the passion and all of me you vaporised,
Leave me be and let me descend into
The darker than black abyss,
Constellations disappeared,
And now I am no one, none.

You may call on the birds and
All natural beauties of this universe,
And all I shall be to you is utter silence,
You may quake the earth under my soul,
Or explode the mountains into ashen volcanoes,
But I shall stay always in infinite silence,
Leave me be for I have chosen my
Intricate being to smile on the few stars,
Begone! For the constellations have
Disappeared, and now I am no one, none.