Wind Whisperer

Here he is, a Whisperer of some sort,
Where the winds of my youth
Calm into rhythmic waves.

In and out of our coastal hearts,
Breezing upon my earth
To comfort piercing quakes.

There, a magical force of some sort,
Where the winds of his realm
Heal my wounded cracks.

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My Angelic Being

Send me towards a heavenly realm,
Where I can dance to your whispers,
Dazzle me with your celestial figure,
And stop the world beating its heart,
Always keep me by your adorable side,
And I will paint you a fabulous portrait,
Look into my eyes and let me go crazy,
Order your soul to merge into mine,
Let us sing out loud my angelic being.

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.