Skip to main content

 Oh flowers.

Let me dive into your fragrance.

Fill me with your grace.

I am pleading for your mercy and praise.

All this while I lived in a hoax castle.

Imagining things which I never desired.

Now all this seems as hollow as my soul.

I cant distinguish between you and god.

God is an ideal I wanted to reach.

But never understood the things their messengers preached.

All this while you were in simpler things,

like blossoms of daisy .

And trees covered with apples and peach.

I am sorry I dismissed you.

I am sorry I forgot about you.

But you never disappeared.

We took you for granted and pierced.

Pricking you apart gradually.

But you never revolted.

Never gave the sign of your annoyance.

Your disapproval was subtle I agree.

We were always consumed in our hunger and greed.

But one fine day you became angry.

And swept us with your fiery weeps.

Now I am left with our ashes and your weeps.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Reminiscence of the forgotten

Confines  of the essence. Giving a scent of changing effervescence. When nothing makes sense. Going feral trying to construct bounds, building a big fence. But the effervescence of the changing seasons marks the end. When the fervor melts. Thing which once were started to lose its essence. A sense of dread seems to have no end. Every last relic of the ever present's presence's remains absent. Everything goes in shambles. Trading the places with the one who writes fables. When an instantiation becomes the writer. It couldn't end all the things which were. Depth of an instantiation fall short off the essential. Their impacts aren't pivotal. Only a reminder of a power. Which could be harnessed by the unjaded.  
Post a Comment
Read more
 A contract with my self. That we never dared to break. But one fine day. All hell broke loose. A strangling force pushed me. I took a  knife and butchered. Untangling all the clutters  In search of truth I walked down to the roots Butchering it into pieces I peeled off it's layers. It was just a facade. To whom I always spoke to. All this while there was no clue of truth. Now I finally realized. For whom I was working for all this while. Who do I really satisfied? Truth was always embedded in the contract. Masquerading itself as a blasphemous act. It's conjure one could never understand.
Post a Comment
Read more