An Evolving Butterfly

Walking on a new land,
Hastening my pace,
To enter a garden,
The atmosphere evolves,
A new act of a scene in a play,
Warmth in its core,
Night befalls,
Clear sky,
Bright stars,
Majestic full moon,
And I find her –
Independent and surviving,
Colourful with a tint of struggle,
And so, I decide to halt,
Observing her wings blossom,
But it will take time,
Then I begin to move on,
Yet, I glimpse one last time,
Her passionate soul yearns to dance,
Taking my breaths away,
A free butterfly,
And so, I stay a bit longer,
Treasuring her presence,
And patiently awaiting the unknown future.

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Emotions in a Bedridden Society

Emotions in a bedridden society,
Inhibited tongue deemed motionless,
And if I incapacitated myself lifeless,
Under virtual euphoric white blanket,
Would you notice emotions masked?

Home housed in remote realms,
Gardening personal enlightenment,
Paths created for public invitations,
Welcome to my utopic society, so,
Do you see a resonance of despair?

The gardening granted stability,
In the scarred errs of society,
Healing a new day, a new beginning,
Thorn-covered blanket in a tumble dry,
Just emotions in a bedridden society.

Never Let Her Go

I planted seeds of sweet royalty,
And I watered some warmth,
I observed her as she grew up,
A year of gorgeous blossoming,
The heart of my fruitful garden,
And now I must let my soulfriend go.

A strong and independent plant,
And I need to travel for few years,
I have faith in her but I am also –
Afraid; fear from the unknown,
First time to react for a plant,
And now I must let my star go.

To others, she might be normal,
To me, unique; a rare treasure,
A special plant that I discovered,
I must act blind and hide my tears,
Such that I can move on and smile,
And now I must let my twin go.

My words will start to diminish,
Otherwise the cyclical agony
Will forever continue its haunt,
But I am extremely proud of her,
She is me in almost everything,
And now I will never let her go.

The Secret Garden

This is a story about our encounter:
A secret bestowed upon a garden
By the keepers of a magical town,
Centred within Gaelic wilderness,
Frivolous birds briskly fly their wings
Into the flowers of a peaceful summer,
We become trees: young and wise,
Organic leaves delineating our soul,
Signs of nature pulling us here,
A nest for storytellers, a sanctuary so
Sacred till the last sip of a teapot,
Brewed within earthly volcanic
Waters to be consumed by many
Celestial souls of serene beings,
The story tells of an enigmatic
Inscription well-preserved within
Its silent walls and cushioned floors,
Within its dim lights and fragrant
Candles, within the cheerful friends
And the veiled whispering couples,
The story discloses to the passers-by
The will to dance a tribal ritual
Energised by the rare melodic aether,
Strings of a golden harp revealing
The vivid colours of this garden,
The story now flicks to a different
Chapter as the door cracks open
And the chimes of our steps reach
This realm’s magnificent keepers,
The same ones who forged this
Hideout for us to share something,
So, relax, take a sip, and enter the story.

Let It Be You!

Take your time, lovely flower,
Be alone and soothe your heart,
Let the moon glow its glory
On your divine magical soul,
Let the tears of love that hide
Behind the curtains of pain
Flow down the rivers of my lands,
And walk outside into the
Tales of blossoming friendships,
There you will find my garden’s
Heart waiting to listen to your
Melodic songs to be sung by
The morning birds – voices of
Nature dancing with the wind
Where your soul shall smile,
Let it be young! Let it be free!
Let it be alive! Let it be you!

Ricochet My Love

The compass has shown a polar
Attraction and the eyes deceived
Me with a dazzling beauty as she
Lets the heart swim in endless
Oceans as the mind tries to listens
To an erudite conversation, though,
A foreigner that ignites my circle of
Life and rewinds the ageing self.
I miss her. All of her. Her all.
An infinite chain chained beyond
Infinity to never be unchained,
You could call it coincidence,
Or fate, or even a universal
Language coded as one of the
Laws of attraction to attract
Entities deemed to always repel.

Sigh.

A nature’s lesson for the wise man,
An educational essay about the
Damp soil’s ability to attract the
Roots of all beauty. Beauty – to her
And of her – accumulates in the
Eyes of my compass, the one to
Tests the maps of minds and the
Directions of hearts while the souls
Intertwine to form a melody to be
Sung by our garden’s nightingales;
A ritual in broad daylight for our
Eyes to see and never be deceived,
Again – I never spoke to her until
Today, until the length of this
Entry: an entry that doubts the
Ability of words to knock on the
Doors of her elegant, soft heart.

Sigh.

Ropes of Life

Relax and breathe as you walk
On the ropes of life to lead you
Into the beautiful gardens that
Are inhabited by mythical Fae,
And there you will be able to
Raise the infants of innocence,
And there you will once again
Believe in justice and peace
As you leave behind the cages
That rusted your hands in shackles,
So, keep walking this path
For you will surely find many
Others raising their youthful
Souls for the life of humanity.