A hiccup, unyielding.
A nuisance, ungiving.
I feel my mere enthuse
Bereaved and befuddled.
Yet, I rise
To the iridescence
Of the days.
In an utter hope
Of moments, without the interim.

In the desolate expedition
Of trying to find oneself,
The meaning of life,
One could not help to feel the knife,
Of the incessant grief,
Of all the losses sustained,
And the inept to fully recover,
To recede from the cliff of sadness,
Only to settle
In the island of fragilities!

When taken aback
From the journey through
The strata of oblivions.
Here and there,

When awakened back
To this sordid reality,
To this absurdity,

Only then,
Let’s disappear into the horizon,
Into the light,
And write poetry,
In utter darkness,
In perfect solace.

I look up.
Beyond my head.
Away from the surround.
Up from the ground.
Detached from the bound.
Only to find
The tiny bulb
Shining over my head.

O gentle night!
Shield me from the hostile light.
From the crowd and the rush.
Bless me with the quiet and the hush.
Conceal my brows and lids
From the blazing shines.
Brim the uncanny noise
With serene and repose.

O gentle night!
Hide away your scare.
Bury your frighten.
Instead,
Enclose me in your brace,
And fill me with your bliss.

If I could wish for one thing,
I would fly, float.
Off the ground,
Off the weight,
Off the the load,
Up into the air
Of the unknown border.

#Verse

Don’t fade away
Into the mist of misery
For it is ephemeral
To feel the acute prickle
Of existence once in a while.
But it’s the numbness
And the mundane subsistence,
We persistently live for¡