Another day goes by
as my temple of verses rests desolated,
with her laments succinct.
this curfew of imagination,
keeps the pilgrims (of thoughts)
sobering behind closed doors.
The valley is being robbed
of its flowers and fervor.
We both are dying slowly
but not as we once dreamed.
In winter,
when it rains saffron
instead of snow.
Sometimes while sleeping
I greet the twin sisters.
Subtle faceless apparitions,
that love to giggle
while skipping the ropes to reality.
coalesced dreams, some call them,
living without an end or beginning.
in a state of drunken stupor,
set by feasting on the flesh of stars
they drive me back to the black lake
where we once buried the moon.
Effigies of time, burn on the shores,
the lake soaking its ashes.
Does the Time ever weep?
for what it has lost,
even in these interconnected dreams
an undecipherable hymn now,
colludes with my stupor
as the faceless Twin Sisters smile.
I shall remember nothing
except for their holy unison
and the figments of thread
sewing their thumbs together
Come here,
Sit next to me,
Don’t leave me tonight.
Watch, as the emeralds melt
in the turquoise colored sky
and the winds of winter
dry the sky’s wounds
through mellow howlings.
This cold is neither bright or dark.
like our love, it is mysterious and tasteless.
Come raise a glass of wine to our love,
let it spill and purify the snow.
Let it drown us, till we become reflections,
aligning perfectly in infinite dusted mirrors.
Don’t leave me tonight,
Come here,
Sit next to me.
He lives through his sketches,
surviving on frugal meals
mostly bread and wine.
Night and Day,
are melancholic mirrors.
he keeps trespassing between them
ignoring the sense of time
creating a vortex of imaginary visions.
Countless Albino Butterflies,
bathe in his color palette.
color-soaked wings
now seek the blank canvas,
the kamikaze of hues is imminent,
for the art to strive
and the artist to escape,
the meddling reality
As waves wrestle playfully,
I revel like a nonchalant dreamer near the shores,
watching the sun disappear,
while the sounds of the sea,
calm its disappearance
I waited all night,
to see the golden coronation
of the bluish waters,
as the horizons brightened up
in the morning
a thousand faces,
a million visions,
now stay with me,
meanwhile the city of dreams,
sleeps somewhere.
as the dawn
proceeds to the dusk,
a thousand images
of this beautiful world,
rotate and change,
sublime visions,
evaporate,
my capillaries,
and adrenaline
burst straight up
like a heroin abuser
drowning in a pool of dreams.
for I have been summoned
to peek in this kaleidoscope,
we sometimes call life,
and I just stare.
the mirrors would shatter soon,
the music will slither in,
it would be dark and damp.
Just as I dreamt once.
that night.
a multiverse existence,
where realities slip through
the hourglasses of time,
memory is a sweet drizzle,
originating from the clouds of conscience,
an atmosphere made of nostalgia,
and we are the floating planet.
the galaxies are unknown and untouched,
we bloom and wither in this cataclysm of life
but I recollect all this,
from a beautiful dream with eyes open,
so was it a deja vu?
or my hands just slipped of this typewriter.
Writings to Heaven 