No, Wrong

I found a blooming flower,
Less nourished, innocent,
Somewhat crooked, tired,
I set observation platforms,
And I water it surreptitiously,
Afraid – she bends away,
Curious – she bends forward,
A dance of some sort –
Yet, all I wanted was to observe –
All she wanted was a bit more –
Now, unable to decide,
Confusion overlaps logic,
Between here and then,
Keeping distance for a day,
Living together for three,
Into the unknown and into our future,
What lies ahead is what we do today,
And I need to learn to say no,
I think – to let it – cease –
Because – it is – I think – wrong.

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.

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?!