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.


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.

Little Things Towards the East

Upon a riverbank, the little birds chirp,
One might leap its warmth onto another,
A celestial songwriter elevates the two,
And a new birdsong is sung for us all,
On the Eastern months of a short year,
The little things that make us more of us.


To Reach Her Heartbeat

A sudden movement of a pulsating star
Might indicate a celestial heartbeat,
One that awaits many hugs and kisses,
Awaiting on the shores of hope,
Listening to the whispers of life,
Leaving footprints on our sand,
Now constellations start to play darts,
And I might have missed the bullseye,
But I still look towards the pulsating star,
Hoping to reach her heartbeats, one day.


My Angelic Being

Send me towards a heavenly realm,
Where I can dance to your whispers,
Dazzle me with your celestial figure,
And stop the world beating its heart,
Always keep me by your adorable side,
And I will paint you a fabulous portrait,
Look into my eyes and let me go crazy,
Order your soul to merge into mine,
Let us sing out loud my angelic being.


One in a Billion

An opportunity might arise in a billionth of a second,
Where he will be able to live in a billion-star hotel,
So, let him choose it without second thoughts,
And with all his might, let him make it happen,
Because that is his celestial angel awaiting.
I know not of such comparable beauty,
But as she descends and he ascends,
The two entities merge into an abstract era,
Unspoken of. Faceless. Emotionless. Timeless.
Where the clock tick-tocks through infinity: Big Bang!
And then the cries of Life bring joy to them,
Emerging from the depths of a billion-star hotel,
So, live on, live there, and live above, my love.


Three Celestial Miracles

When the moon nourishes the heart of a forlorn sand,
And when the shooting star orbits around Polaris,
Where shall the nomadic sand go to seek seeds of guidance?
If not for the celestial bodies embedded in our skies,
The moon would dwell on uneven edges of the Earth,
But as a sand seeking a fruitful tomorrow,
I camp on mountainous constellations,
Listening to Polaris’ revelations,
How the everlasting silences of the shooting star
Will recreate the Big Bang,
How the infinite smiles of the moon
Will redirect the flow of Time,
And we may once more wonder where will the
Forlorn nomadic sand be if not for these three?