The soul craves reaching out
Fingers moving rhythmically
What did she actually look for,
Deep in her heart, touching,
Touched , experience comes in
Several glutinous colours
Colours break forth from vast silences;
Stillness reaches senses like mist
Touching the morning grass
Dripping from the hanging creeper.
Strikingly individualistic
Kicking up fuzzy thought
Stirring a beehive of memories
Against the rusted windows
Soft-purring, cuddlesome
The fog smothers passion-flames
And takes away the crackle
Of sun-drenched leaves
Leaving embers of once
In the crunching old bones
Striking the throbbing temple
Dramatic and pulsating
Presaging a nasty day ahead
Breathing down vaporously
On our optimistic mornings.
She then lost her stark flesh
And phosphorous bones
Became uni-dimensional
She cannot move sideways
Nor look keenly skywards
She had said equivocal no to time
Persistently with bravado
When she spoke there were
No words floating in the ether
In fact they became ether
Started touching everyone
Like the icy breath of death
While her beauty streamed
In the overflow of colors.
