Distillation

Sometimes, a wound thrives within, it never bleeds  

Conceals its existence knowingly yet never recedes  

Silently, lodging its essence in every nerve ending   

Becomes an alone, afraid child, it denies mending

                    An endless requiem, a part of the heart sings, always                  

A strangled hollow erupts amid perfectly serene days

Life nurtures her assaults in quaintly persuasive ways

We slowly begin learning rules of her eccentric plays  

                Astonishing that time turns grief into a companion                

                            Killing the dark of merry lies like a ruthless assassin                               

Drop by drop, anguish melts into a warmth a balm 

Invading the ruins within, being a serenading calm

Oddly, yet, the flame of eternal yearning remains 

It doesn’t burn, a burnished ecstatic form it attains

Dedicated to all those … Who know not all sorrows are disposable, some stay with us to make us stronger. Some sorrows, we like to keep because they’re cherished. They purify the heart by reminding us when we fell and when we regained our footing. They distill….

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