Into the Wild

The sweats of your beating heart
May escape your limbs
To welcome a naked night
With those who sculpted it
Into a gorgeous goddess.

Continue another mile,
And expand your universe
Into wondrous constellations,
Creating a path of ascension
Into your youthful soul.

Chance may lead you to a musical,
Where you stop to extend the drums,
To wildly gaze at an earthly energy,
There, a free soul holds your hands
To dance under the glowing moon.

Now you begin to realise,
The rhythmic symphony of life,
How it was all choreographed by
Your own limbs that bow
For its own goddess of a heart.

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.

Rhythmic Beings

The heart is agonised as it beats for its angel,
Turning right in a reverse motion outwards,
Disoriented as if a newborn yearning for warmth,
Love and compassion are its compass,
Faintly immersing its emotions calling for hers’,
Pitch perfect,
An artist is thriving,
In a melodic continuity,
Towards infinity,
For every beat is worth billions of stars,
But struggling to beat less intensely,
So as to not give hints to by-passers,
But holds for few seconds and skips beats,
Out on long distances they hold onto threads,
Drums of passion hammering a rhythmic cry,
On the dancing stage their performance ignites,
And as it walks towards closed arms,
She glimpses his sudden jump and opens,
And he lets go.