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 . . .