Damsels Parade....

The nickel of hope, lingering in your pocket,

High runways, fast turbulence of life’s secrets.

The grip was the nickel’s clutch,

Your mind sought to adhere to the demons in its church.

The lights faint in the stormed nights. You held the candle flame,

But your mind endured the wax’s stain.

Your eyes, tranced by pessimistic doors,

The presence of the golden coin: a freeway to heaven’s shores.

A damsel, distressed, parades upon your brain's edge,

Thoughts wandering down the lost streets.

Your castle, a haven of destitution—

Why harbour damsels with spiked noses and lives so bloody?

A text, ordinary, pings up a phone,

Your eyes search for waters in a barren land.

Your eyes make belief in everything it clones,

Your eyes transform twigs into bushes’s band.

"What if he is angry at me?”

"What if he is sad?”

"What if he stops talking to me?”

"What if I am too much for the man mad?”

"I shouldn’t approach him; that sounds desperate indeed.”

A deep breath inhaled, still should be your hands.

Preach what you now read,

“A broken bucket can’t serve its meaning,

No matter how pure the water is.”

A futile damsel shouldn’t serve its meaning,

No matter how pure the brain is.

Your mind, a precious gem in the cosmos of thought.

Your time, a crystallised ruby in the seas of lives.

Don’t shed blood over knives that aren’t even sharp.

A cloud that hovers over you; hovers over all.

Your life as damaged as your neighbour’s.

Your eyes harbour a curse of adversity.

If you looked at Orion above for too long,

Constellations fall, the stars would be redrawn.

A mirror, your soulmate.

A brain, a prey.

Life, a prayer to your prey.

Trust within, an ingredient to the prayed checkmate.

A kid saddened, a girl’s heart cut.

Why? Your Life’s a mere fragment of fate’s hand.

Time spent worrying if the ocean wets the sand.

Your eyes wide open, as much as you forced them shut.

Stop worrying:

Your eyes, windows to heaven.

Your face, a temple to the sea’s laden.

Your body, a latent staircase to the cosmos.

A road trailed, crossways being perished,

An end beyond, your hand could never cherish.

The hope radiating within the infinity’s grasp,

Your mind conceals it in the darkest lands.

You stand believing, falling short of the courage required:

Your worth’s truth lies in the beholder’s eyes, liared,

“Your impotence, Your importance, Your friends”,

But if a butterfly wished for wings of others to mend,

Could it ever fly clear?

If you forever stand alone amid the hurricane of fear,

The air within, twisted eternally.

Your face remains, but your soul, vanished slowly.

Your worth is you.

The doused eyes, the baptised soul.

You were born to die alone.

Summon the courage to journey through life's intricate tapestry.

Summon the courage to believe you can knit moonlight and weave sunrise.

The road’s end is your journey’s passion.

The spikes in-between are people, fair-weathered.

The nickel lingers; hold it in your wrist.

Summon the courage to realise:

Your hand was meant to grasp infinity's pride.

Obstacles always rise; your mind, now housed by damsels' stride.

People greet with 'hi,' their intent to launch you to the moon,

But when the shores dry, the moon flies.

You realise:

You need to lose people to find yourself alone in peace.