why do they live,
what plots do they believe,
everyday, yet again, walking down the same path,
to the volatile inner being is a wrath.
yet life is but a surreal wave,
To be rode on ecstatically,
not being to pattern , a slave.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 12:26 PM UTC
Here i lay, bound in an adamant vial
An aesthetic fragrance satiating enough
circumscribed by royal attire
Princely walls, buggies and puppets
Longing to aspirate through the vial
To diffuse and be volatile
For obscured will be the royalty
And eternalised exists conscious volatility
Lured was i, the fragrance itself
Encountered when did i her pretty self
Beauty to which holy moon did hail
Graciously humble so sweet a frail
Within the vial i lay enchanted
Simplicity, the world took for granted
Loved her did i deeper than any trench
Thirst of expressing love i was to quench.
Gaining her vicinity meant captivity of mine
Thwart would it my pious purpose
Of escaping to volatility
Unbound, unearthed, uncapped
From something to nothing
Yet be omnipresent
Be sensed by her as an aroma pure
Caress her with utmost detail
Though i may possess her not
Nor may i keep her bound
Yet closest to her would i be
Expression of true love have i found
-consciously_volatile
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 11:56 PM UTC