Embracing the Unseen....

A line drawn at the sand’s bay,

Sea’s tides wash it away.

A leaf, verre in spring’s sway,

Burns red in the autumn grey. A timed entrance of the sun rays Marks the departure of mooned face. Worms crawl out as the insects draw inside, The nature’s cycle persists in the world’s crumbled night.

Each entity, a guest: arrives and exits Why is it? My heart, a stranger to the touch of other entities' entry, alone in it's passage. Change, incessantly consistent, Can’t the lord above the skies alter my eyes to nature’s strife, If the rivers dry, And the sun flies, Doesn’t my heart deserve a face to rely? If I stop believing in love, Would I feel the graze of affection’s lush?

Windows to the pink seas, boarded up, A heart, never loved. Now, gated to foreign lives. Clocking in at 7, out at 9, A labyrinth traversed by the marred souls, daily. The exit my eyes failed to perceive clearly. Bustled road back home, My eyes return to an empty couch with a broken remote.

Peers, held at bay in gentle grace, Within arm's embrace, to etch me in their memory’s face. Each, starting a family of their own, A net, they fall back on. The broken trampoline, I keep jumping on. Smiles on faces their eyes return to. The mere reflection on the stained mirror, I see through.

Nether the scarecrow amongst paddy, pure. The pollen’s soulmate: the lily's bosom, The tapestry in the crescent’s allure, Soaked in the stains of the fables of interim affection, My soul’s breath, held. Four walls surrounding a fire pit of ashened love letters, A heart could never be shattered If it was never anchored.

Under the flickered Christmas lights, Midst the smell of cocoa in the morning sky, Secret Santa, only my name in the hat, empty. A face, I envision glancing at the ceilings, To hold me when I shed tears over spilled milk, To ladle me warmth when illness takes hold, To embrace my pierced wings, which made me fall. We grow older together, The Midas touch of your tips on my poor heart. All, just a dream in the skyline’s frill, Waking up next to cold air, A morning feast untouched by my lips, The TV with the static screeching, A four-walled prison in the world freeing. The house I could never name a home.