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.

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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.

The Two Lads

The old lad and the not-so-old young lad
Started to walk together by the beach,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The night swallowed the rays of lightness,
And crows would appear from the horizon –
Extremely distant that the two lads found
It excruciatingly painful to stare at, and so,
One of them sat on the snow-covered
Deserted unscathed wooden bench that
Was genetically engineered to survive
This apocalyptic world of many shadows,
The old lad went to his pockets and
Spread his palms out where seeds laid
There: warm, still, and totally silent,
The not-so-old young lad was extremely
Observant and stood firm in a great pause,
What he saw was something magical
Where extinct small birds and huge
Pelicans would soar high encircling
Those seeds, but the darkness changes
The beach and a whistling sound alarms
The two lads where they immediately
Walked along the coast in calmness,
One had a stick and the other sunglasses,
The old lad and the not-so-old young lad.

Beauty of Running

I free a muscle to swell my eyes,
A twinkle by the distant horizon,
Only time will tell me its story,
Dreamers sitting by waters of sapphire,
Clap for all of us and move forward,
An old lady’s smile is all what it takes
As the twinkle nears my running feet,
And I speed to grab its gleaming lights,
And become the distant horizon that
Beautifully swelled my carefree eyes.

A Nearing Day

One day that is nearer than
Yesterday – similar to today,
I fascinate my eyes in winter,
Surround the house with birds,
Light few candles and wish
For a moment of a meeting,
A song to be sung by nature,
The naturally organised chaos,
With many may I’s and you may’s,
And my, I’d surely find you
The most gorgeous creature
Alive. Flawless. Holy. In love.

A Heart’s Dream

Relay a message,
A whisper that may
Resonate an echo, or
A light wave to
Wave a smile at
Your heart: reflection permits you to
Reach the stars from
The very eyes that
Form a dream.

Indeed –

Form a dream,
The very eyes that
Reach the stars from
Your heart: reflection permits you to
Wave a smile at
A light wave to
Resonate an echo, or
A whisper that may
Relay a message.

Getting Warmer

Am I getting warmer?
Rhetorical, philosophical,
As I examine hollow
Threads of friendships,
Frozen and colder,
Though in existence,
To pretence our souls
In believing their being,
Lifeless black holes never
To reach stars of our skies,
Forgotten to never remember–

When is it getting warmer?
Rhetorical, philosophical,
As I examine golden
Threads of friendships,
Warmer in abundance,
Floral essences as décor,
Stylists shaping them
Into hearts for many
Hugs and kisses
And the forever smiles,
Tiptoeing a poem,
To him and to her,
And again and again,
Tiptoeing a song,
To him and to her,
And again and again,
For I have found
A treasure chest,
Full of warm gems–

Is it going to get any warmer?
Rhetorical, philosophical,
As I examine diamond
Threads of friendships,
Rare garments
To wrap around,
Drums of my heart,
Lights of my mind,
Whispers of my soul,
Without them
All threads freeze
Beyond repair
As the river flows,
Indeed, unbearable,
But they are here
Here, here, here,
I built them a mansion,
An astronomical
Chamber that fits them all,
They are the best of the
Best, closer than the
Closest of all my friends.