Hot winds caused the charming petals to wilt,
Withered leaves slept under the dew quilt,
The sky looked red and fawn,
Rays of sorrow broke the dawn,
Icicles of trust started to melt,
Roses of love resembled a welt,
Cerulean oceans of wisdom turned black,
Light sleepers don’t like the busy track,
Life goes through phases like the moon,
Sky belongs to those who break the cocoon,
Graves have no room for grudges or vengeance,
Have no ill-feelings or hate, but only reverence.

Winter has faded
It is spring
Flowers dance
and bees sing

I stay suspended
devoid of haste
No need to breathe
still and braced

Silence reigns
The cocoon awaits
For the wings and
For summers gates!

Falling, falling, falling,
                                  forever
or is this
                                     G
                                   N
                                  I
                           ­     T
                              A
                          ­   O
                            L
                          F
towar­ds a shimmer in the distance
like a wind that carries a dead leaf
whispering through the chimes
that fall upon deaf ears
as if the message was sent
and it just wasn't heard

No, this is f
                     a
                       l
off                    l
    the                  i
precipice  ­           n
                               g

as I watch the sky
march round in a funeral procession
of our history

F L O A T I N G
in this disorienting gravity

S E D U C I N G
in this magnetic propinquity

T E A R I N G
in this psychosomatic schism

every storm proceeds an epoch
                                              of pleasure
as if pleasure
                    is an
Grecian artifact
                        in the backdrop of Ovid

The caterpillar
                       of Like
                       of Love
                       of Hate
cocoons into insouciant
                                      vicissitudes

            ­                           Y.
                                    A
                        ­         W                                
but refuses to fly A

In lieu of being fake, I don a glass mask.
Observed, I am seen as a brittle basket case full of sass
blinded by the rays in which we bask.
A riddle whose answer you need not ask
because I am already clasped behind your back.
That itching thought
of which is oft ignored; through a mind it may bore and crack.
If judged so, daft recognizes daft,
realizes life lays down sordid tracks.
When elegance is noticed be appreciative of the act.

Wings spread; flappable;
something else now, as a matter of fact.

wake up
breath in and out
take in the new day like a leaf absorbs the morning dew
it's time to go

yesterday's errors are erased when the clock strikes twelve
you are new
you are a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon of coulda-woulda-shoulda
ready to take flight and make brand new beautiful mistakes

you've never had a day quite like today before
you'll never have a day quite like today again
so embrace it