The bride: a present

in tulle, the veil that reveals --


her love all the more.

Desperate, so agonisingly glutted with yearning,
Yearning to hear my voice and to know that it resounds,
So roundly that I am all at once myself, And so much myself that I remember my eyes,
My eyes that have long been forgotten in cruel glass.
Cruel, cruel glass! I have long been abandoned, and long been a veil,
But such a thin veil that always would wane,
It's falling slowly now, like a prophecy fulfilled,
Get ready to see, get ready to be seen.

The wee hours late night
in a blink of an eye
blows her Niqab (veil) away.
Oh, that folds springs in style
in the chalice of rose flower
never gone with the rainbow
splash of the first light!

Stunned broad daylight
rather looses for words
punting in sleek brook of twilight
scurries back into the night.

Quality is dear
Heaven is not cheap
Neither is the earth
To be anyone’s for good
Then before losing
One’s hand or foot
Seize the opportunity
Get in gear
Leave good for the better.

Like the first light:
The power candle
Sunrise on the golden high
May fall for for the rose
At first sight
As if the veiled night
Popped rosy on its black mole
But always before long
Back to the night the sun is gone.

A thought of you crosses my mind
never knew it would treat
my midday blues that wild.
Banished it in a blink of an eye
in less than a swift mo
the rose sway at the first light.

The day was long though
but gone before the rainbow
touches the butterfly.

Scurried to the night
back into the half veiled Niqab.
The waxing moon is on the open half
down the far-fetched sun's half eye.

When will you come by
before my eyes?

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺-
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬.
𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥:
𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥.
𝘖𝘳-
𝘜𝘨𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺.
𝘉𝘶𝘵-
𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳:
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦.
𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳.
𝘍𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.
𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.
𝘉𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵.
𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚.
𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 '𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣'.

On the muted music of the zephyr, the viridescent folks' dance and the fluffs veiled in white, sallow, and orange tinges glide in the mid-air. In this pristine swathe shield by a mysterious guard against intruders, there's no gravity to land from jovial vibrations.

© Spriha Kant

When we made eye contact earlier
it wasn’t the same.
Something hangs between us and I can’t feel you as clearly as I used to.