My hand didn't want to awaken those abjections
but the ink wondered aimlessly on the paper.
Sullen  episodes were like a cloud on the page.

Mists of what was like heavy dew on my
mind, thoughts drooped uncontrollably.
Then they conceded under strain descending.

Ink was abstract as I never understood why
I felt this incosectant need to cry every thought
on paper. My reflection is not what I feel inside.

Like morning dew set like a duvet over the frail grass

mist laying thick but yet frail and thin like glass


stars still glooming on Gaea's black arch far above

pines resting deep until dawn calm thereof


the silence only broken by a mourning dove

not breaking, being of the serenity one of


only at times as these I can feel at bay

my own doubts can not even make me sway


for once I feel whole...

What do you want?
Tears to regret!
Dew drops to soul refine!

a small dew droplet
sits atop a bright green leaf
morning air is a gift

Why is it the stars and not the sun that makes me feel as small as I do
Maybe because thy cover the sky like twinkling dew

I lay under them and watch the light of millions of dead
Most not realizing that their gone, no tears are shed

Is it the night
Because our thoughts turn to frights
Is that why I feel so small under their light
To weak to put up a fight

I don't really know the reason, but here I am
Smaller than a grain of sand
My place in this universe, just a fleeting moment
A dying ember with not much content

Yes it's the stars that make me feel so small
Like lost memories down the minds empty hall

The pebble doth not portend when it sinks to the bottom of the basin,
Neither doth the sparrow lie when it takes to flight.

Gentle as a drop of morning dew
Silent as ghosts passing in the night
Strong as Earth's gravitational pull
A treasure hidden in plain sight

Exciting as a stirring storm
Passionate as a dancer's spin
Magical as heat lightning's stroke
Abstract as a Weeping Willow's grin

The world may not know
About the love you give to me
It can be our garden of secrets
That we've sowed romantically

फुसनि निहिर
जोंथिदों फुंबिलिनि सोरां रोदाजों
दुब्रि हाग्रा समायदों।
आंनि नोजोरा
दायो नायगोमोदों,
सुदेम बुब्लियाव।

Even if the morrow
Is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
To become the dew
That clenches the land
To spare the sands
The seas and the sky
I offer thee this silent sacrifice