Curled up
in a corner
staring at the mossed walls
amidst the light that devours fireflies
the petrichor is now stronger
than all the ales I had
this reverie
the imagery shows no sign of ceasing
and with everything coming back to me
I am ready to stumble again
and fall every step
to write and rewrite
the joy is somewhat incessant
like it always has been.
Lo Behold for the time has come,
to raise the glasses
for the worthy unsung
it is the day they embraced death
as a good old friend, with respect
the rains will dance
and lightning will cry
they did not went alone
in the darkest night
someday sometime one has to leap
with eyes open and heart asleep
let us celebrate the honorable dead
with the brightest faces, tears unshed
Lo behold the time has come
to raise glasses
for the worthy unsung
entwined scents
and a divine grace
a sombre gaze across the room
that sent all hearts to race
days passed and so did nights
nothing was so vehement ever
than those beautiful eyes
I have been a dreamer
since that day then
to conjure an eternity in a moment
maybe it was her only sin.
if you were transported back
to a 5 year old you
with your sane intellectual mind
I am pretty sure
you would spend no time
in impressing others
but rather would roll in the mud
for days, draw castles and create
a laughing havoc
if that is the case
then why not unwind yourself
rather than chasing deadlines,
an eye or two might be raised
but more hearts would want
to drown and swim in the tides
you create.
a speck of cosmic dust
or a tiny dot
in the blackened emptiness
full of mystical voids
life has flourished here
even in the savagery and butchery
of flesh,minds and even souls
all in the lands floating in blue
yet we are not terrified
or stupefied of our existence
neither grateful nor pity
for this spectacle
or maybe the light
is at the end of the tunnel
and me walking in opposite
or worse running blind.
they couldn’t create a time machine,
it was way to difficult
for the whole world to travel
ahead of or losing the time.
but some created wonderful art and music
or wrote a book and the barriers of time travel
were shattered long ago unnoticed by anyone.
but when the night sets in,
and you wash the disgust off your face,
the eyes in mirror are just not looking to admire
that pretty face,they ask for dreams once promised
this job is going to save you from everyone
but who is going to save you from yourself?
Writings to Heaven 