In the ethereal expanse of our daydreams,
Pink and white skies intertwine,
Bound by a ribbon that unites our fingers
In an unbreakable embrace.

Time has etched its marks upon us,
The vibrant hues fading into muted tones.
Silver strands emerge, yielding to
The purity of white, yet the soft blush of
Pink lingers in the heavens above.

We remain tethered to our love, forever
Yearning for the ribbons we once cherished,
Now tucked away in the corners of our hearts.

Emerald jealous eyes, over the dominion of the clock;
Unshackled by the chains of authority, for who can
Predict the beginning of time or the path it shall traverse?
Time, the ultimate liberator of existence, flows like water,
Shapeless yet potent, wielding an influence that touches
Every soul.

Time, the most cunning of thieves, robs any idea
Of having more time. It slips through fingers
Like sand, giving short nights; relentless demands
Of an overbearing master, giving us longer days.

Is she merely a commodity, – or is she a daring spirit, traversing
the farthest reaches of love? To express to her young – an odyssey!
Often, they would hastily declare that a woman's deeds are common;
but to counter, her core is to weave a painting of sentences adorned
with countless comas.

She…

Is a stormy love, obliterating all that stands against compassion,
wielding a wisdom that is both fierce and gentle, she knows precisely
when to voice her thoughts or to elevate the spirit of a man who may
overlook her brilliance, a celestial body, she requires no stage to
illuminate the world; her radiance persists, unwavering, she is a
lyrical composition, igniting the pages that attempt to confine her
value, she embodies the sweetest of a restless soul, finally finding
solace in her nurturing embrace, she is tranquillity, she is affection,
she is the embodiment of patience, the lessons and warnings of a
discerning gaze – she is… a Woman.

I handle my liquor as well — as a well striving to keep afloat.
In the shadows the nights stretch long, and I come across a girl
with a captivating smile; her body, however, bore the marks of
countless encounters, of each man who sunk in her, a much deeper
borehole. Yet, she adorns herself with a cross, perhaps a silent
testament for both parties to start off by saying their own grace.

I’m seemingly fighting inner demons; as a silent war etched upon
my face — all the while chasing after every idea to extend this
human race. Yet, it is a cruel irony that the most profound revelations
often emerge only after, we have drowned ourselves in the depths
of unspoken answers in our cups.

And so, the clash of poor ideas and the taste of liquor lingers on;
as the drinks act as an unequal guide, to the morning — where in
the aftermath, the bitter collision of misguided notions and the
haunting essence of spirits endures.

I never truly experienced daddy issues,
Even when there were moments when his
Unconventional parenting, gave a hint of
Issue on how he periodically raised us.

Yet, he never did it for any press;
Or aimed for our childhood
To become fodder for magazine covers.
Covered with the words we could remember
From church services, not engaging in the
Practice of parenting, JUST
For public service.

He poured everything he had
Into raising us, drawing from
All he had at hand, from what
Was handed to him- to make him
A man. And for our own youngsters,
We will take the most
Important lessons to raise
Better men.

Wouldn’t you like to know, the kind of dreams we could have
been — beneath the depths of the sea; cherished hopes drifting
away, swallowed by the relentless tide of time, as we strain to
glimpse the farthest reaches of eternity?

As tears cascade like a territorial downpour, your mind unravels,
as you lose the mind to all your ideas. You yearn for a peace that
brings you to your knees, a surrender so profound it echoes in
the silence.

With your eyes shut tight, you invite your heart to unveil its truths,
allowing your innermost feelings to emerge, unshackled and raw.
Yet here I stand, feeling unworthy of love’s embrace, grappling
with the remnants of healing from the scars it has left behind.

I’m trapped in a dream that's impaired – both lovely and blind.
An uncanny Eden, where beauty and confinement intertwine
in a haunting embrace.