A Night’s Treasure

Comfort the limbs of your heart,
And breathe for another revival,
Sometimes you might need to
Move your soul through the fog,
Because you know that ascension
Along the galactic celestial pathway
Will inevitably lead you to Heaven,
Yet, do not trespass laws of life,
For you will seldom find peace,
So, go and find serenity in nature,
For it will guide you to smile,
Like, how the moon whispers
Its glow on the river’s surface,
An endless supply of a night’s treasure.

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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.

Fighting for Her

The one in a billion being brought to light
In a dark era where many bark and bite,
And a passer-by noted the infringement
Of the laws in a dystopian society,
And he saw the predators hunting the wounded angel,
Now that Time has shown a different face
Discharging electrical shocks that shocked his mind beyond repair,
And he tried to stand firm against dust storms
Crippling the minds of pure beings,
She was indeed falsely accused, involuntarily resurrected,
And I have sworn to evacuate this polluted era
Such that she may feel alive, at least once, by me,
An objective and a burden I carry until I succeed,
For she is one in a billion brought to light in a dark era.

A Blink of an Eye

Have you noticed how a blink of an eye
Iz so draztix that the letdez dawnt fitt
The preskribd loz of the aflabits?
But wenn the I’z blinnc mor and mor –
UUell, knaw pleez blenc a-gay-n – ohkay,
Wan mor tyme so that the two little
Curtains of your vivacious musical
Close assisted by the waters of life,
Lubricating an eye into a rapid motion.

Have you noticed how a blink of an eye
Gets an important invitation to moisten
The fruitful life and this avoids dryness
From sucking the logical sense of
These written words out of their
Natural voices, and if by some random
Phenomenon you blink excessively,
Then the world would voluntarily spin
Out of control leaving you with a
Bothersome black blind of a blink.

And have you noticed that today
You sometimes blink to change the
Visual effects of your worldly matter
Just to relive a more colourful film,
Or avoid a bright white energy,
And readjust your camera lenses,
And this might work fine, but it
Might also leave you in dismay,
Disbelieving in a blink of an eye,
Where repetition might just work.

And have you noticed that some
Blinks close to never reopen?
Their whispers have gone, too,
Never did you notice, did you? –
How a blink of an eye will change
The course of your thinking
About the ancestors that became
Your world today and how today
Becomes tomorrow after leaving
Your blink of an eye very silent.

But can you imagine that all of this
Is only the work of a blink of an eye?!

A Child’s Game

Raise your level of imagination,
To that of a child building those
Blocks of letters, stacking them,
With that contagious tiny smile,
He might get absorbed into the
Colours and use that to solve a
Problem that he himself might
Have created, but he will feel
A challenge with exhilarating
Rush of emotions once logical
Reasons permits him to finish,
Or he might endure one more
Rule of his own creation where
The edges of perfectly-shaped
Letter cubes should be aligned,
Or not, as it depends on his brain
Waves cooperating with his heart
To beat for a vibrant self-portrait,
Here, creativity was explored with
A bunch of wooden cubes, see,
One might disregard the details to
Conclude that it is ever so boring,
But maybe you just need to raise
Your level of imagination, and
Observe those friendly monsters
Surrounding this child to play with
Him this simple but awesome game.

Painting a Portrait

The two-dimensioned dilemma switched sides
To impersonate historical ageless Time where
At one end the black-and-white canvas would
Rotate into a pictorial film and scream aloud
Ancient symbolic letters for peace and justice.

Certainly, this era’s dogma about our truly old
Unpainted portraits revolved around ignoring
The essence of life dismissing the colossal law
Of the starry constellations among our shining
Sun, our glowing Moon, and our celestial souls.

Then the plot thickens after an innocent kid
Picks up brushes and a colour-filled palette
To openly colour its own portrait accidentally
Triggering the reversal movements of Time
As anti-clockwise severely destroys all dreams.

Albeit, the kid grows and learns to unlock
That treasure box and remove the partially
Painted canvas to tear it apart in hope that
One day Time will listen to this kid’s sorrows
Switching back to a one-dimensioned film.