It is a r e c o r d
Of the sudden impulse of mind,
Where s u b c o n s c i o u s
Was caught on act,
Reminiscing some past you can't fathom.
And so, you turned it into words,
That existed in e v e r y p a r t of the world.
You extend beyond the skies,
And kindle the galaxy in soft touches of ink.
You named all the stars,
In search for your l o s t s o u l ,
Disintegrating to something bigger,
You havent noticed.
From there you understand,
That the p e r s o n you are,
Could be someone g r e a t e r.
With such blinding passion.
In keen p o s s e s i o n .
All because of your subconscious
Hiding truth from you,
Your mind gets amnesia,
But the h e a r t keeps beating in rhythm,
Turning every monotone
Into c h a o s m e l o d y.
So you grasp for air,
And hold your pen. . .
Pounding into s p a c e ,
Letting f r e e d o m sink in.
And that's how words became,
So beautiful. .
Because that is YOU.
But somehow,
Some of us lose ourselves,
In between.
And that's how beautiful it is.
You stop, to admire it for a second.
**S o b e a u t i f u l . . .