It's a different buzz when

I hear of someone who isn't like anyone else,

Like a mellifluous cukoo in middle

of a metropolitan, a wave of fresh air breezing past

the sailors of Atlantic or as if it rained upon

the deserted desert where ozymandias is buried.




All the myths were buried

About things glowing brighter when,

I happened to glance upon

her gleam; where else,

Have I seen such shine, never in mine,past

which only she stands, next to The Sun, none in middle.




This sestina is hers,thou shalln't disturb in middle,

Those traits Methuselah said, is long lost and buried,

I don't know if it's hers, or she borrowed from the past,

Maybe she learnt at the right time, I don't know when,

Maybe she learnt it from someone, I don't know who else

can guide my way to the place, Redeemer was once built upon.




She is the Horatio, you can freely trust upon,

Tom to the Huck Finn,when stuck in middle,

"Acceptability" as she puts it, is second to none else,

Eleos must be proud of things she left buried,

Aesthetic in itself did her trait sound when

I caught upto myself in wake of my past.




Don't fool yourself, everyone still has a past,

But weak are those who keep clinging upon

the setbacks of life , the scars you get, never when

you came across but when u get stuck in middle

of holding onto it over keeping it buried,

But she isn't us, changing times doesn't wear her but everyone else.




It's not something I only observed, ask someone else,

It's what she stands for , way above her past,

I always worry about the good things being buried,

But oblivion is what her world's built upon,

Infinity and beyond is what she will be deciding in middle

of choosing destinies she'll own, time will tell when.




Who? I hope you got her upon, the hints I dropped in middle,

My examples are all the buried , yet her hint lies in only their past,

I might sound cliché when, I say like you there lies none else.