fallen,

like rivulets of wind pluck autumn leaves
and carpet the ground
they'll be revered for a fleeting instance
and become forlorn,
despite their regal golden-cerise mantle

so have my feelings been regarded,
gone berserk and drowned
frothing on their agape mouth

I curse ego's starvation for human love,
when my spirit pleas for detachment-
I bend my knees with shame
for plunging into ocean of emotions,
those that sprint skin deep
with pragmatism blindfolded

I want no lectures on fate
for I've seen its countenance's smirk,
yet I have bowed like a silent monk

and in this coarse parody
of Hermes' loss of wings,
I precipitate down the abyss
feathers melted down
by the selfsame sun I adore-

but I fall with my heart overflowing with love,
and though deep inside it mourns
in soundlessness,
I embrace its bitter tang with stoicism

then I gently close my eyes and whisper:
“I will always love you,
even with your about-face demeanor
wearing garments
of a million queens…”