The soliloquy of the night,
what we think as
falling stars and meteors,
make time and space immaterial
in the transmission of pain across light years.
Sitting here alone, a sentinel
to pain's interplanetary travel,
and witness of it transforming
in to other forms, eloquent,
I hear them when my eyes,
acquire a sense, primordial
receive the dark waves
of pain in my veins
a volcano palpitating to blow up
in to fireworks of emotions.
Everywhere eyes could travel, is filled
by night, thick, gooey, agglutinated;
then the meditative darkness,
dreams up a beam of gentle light,
out of its deep transcending yearning,
to speak to itself,to get an alchemy work on that pain
then, the pain itself becomes a haunting journey with words
this ,is how my love, my songs
in the midnight of my lonely soul, are born.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 12:14 PM UTC
The soliloquy of the night,
what we think as
falling stars and meteors,
make time and space immaterial
in the transmission of pain across light years.
Sitting here alone, a sentinel
to pain's interplanetary travel,
and witness of it transforming
in to other forms, eloquent,
I hear them when my eyes,
acquire a sense, primordial
receive the dark waves
of pain in my veins
a volcano palpitating to blow up
in to fireworks of emotions.
Everywhere eyes could travel, is filled
by night, thick, gooey, agglutinated;
then the meditative darkness,
dreams up a beam of gentle light,
out of its deep transcending yearning,
to speak to itself,to get an alchemy work on that pain
then, the pain itself becomes a haunting journey with words
this ,is how my love, my songs
in the midnight of my lonely soul, are born.
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