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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Late Twenties

In my late twenties,
Between sad six
And sorrow seven,
Between essential eight
And noble nine,
I immersed myself in
An ocean of feelings,
I performed a somersault,
And I hit my head,
Slipped out of rhythm,
On indestructible rocks,
Then in a surreal coma,
Later, a patient marathon,
Survival of the fittest,
And I will always win,
Because here I am,
Still in my twenties.

I Am Cultural

Hold on. Pause. And take a deep breath.
Listen to the red beats of all our lives.
And wait. Be patient. And look outside.
See the yellow dust mixing with shades
Of green palettes awaiting to be stroked
For an enormous canvas. Now breathe.
And live for as long as your white smiles
Take you: over the blue seas or even at
Your own doorstep where you trembled,
Where you suffocated your old inner self,
A shock towards a culture you embraced
As a little child and chose to set it aside,
Let it shock you. Let it shock the very feet
That tried to escape a reality deemed to
Forever follow you innocently for a kiss,
And for a little hug, and request to never
Forget, so go into a huge shock so that
You will be able to return to us normal
For I am all of my past, present, future.

Howls and Roars

I was once a little boy who travelled
To different planets; each to tell their
Own ancient story about my purpose –
Not theirs, and strangely enough, only
Riddling clues evaporated into my ears,
The voice? Well, no specific position,
Only the vivid signs in the atmosphere,
And on the brightest month of the year,
And on the coldest night of the month,
And on the loneliest hour of the night,
Wolves started to appear amidst the
Misty snowfall of a woodland planet,
And I have lived on this planet patient
For it to tell me its story about me,
And even after years spending on it,
I have never heard anything except now:
The endless howls under the several
Moonlights – the volcanic planet did
Reveal the secret of the darting red
Eyes that would stop my heartbeat,
But I had to do something for them,
And their approach was slow and
Fixated centred entirely around me,
I couldn’t climb the trees or dig down
And hide below some earthly matter,
But I might be able to speak some
Sense into them, and so I told them
To go away and leave me alone,
I asked them what of me did they want,
Their reply was simply predatory,
And I knew that any second now
I would be devoured into little pieces
Beyond recognition, and so I shouted,
And I noticed the hesitation on the
Younger wolf, and so I roared at the
Top of my young lungs, and many
Stopped their deathly march, but
Since I was by myself that pause did
Not last forever, and so, I roared again
And again and again, but this time,
The planet roared its life with me.