Wet locks of a rainy March night
Are rosaries adorned by dewy pearls,
Pouring down an anointed wistfulness
Which is aglow with a tender smile,
A smithy comes alive, inly,
Hammering down the wrought iron fence,
One cloaks one’s miseries with.
Ushering in a disintegration of the worldly self,
Dissipating ashes of pretences,
Cooing back the unabashed form,
Fearless, ensconced under the mimosa plant guise.
Far away at the end of the street,
A lamp stands grimly,
Holding a flickering pale russet light
Which, like me,
Gallops out of its solitary confines.
Flying steeply, in a rush,
Shedding its stitches & stretching out its arms
Towards a radiant blue star
Together, they will erupt in a opalescent constellation.
Aeolian sighs carrying prayers of a soaked aroma,
Dancing in a ritual meant to suffuse the heart
And imbibe the soul,
With a longing, lovers sleep with, suffer from
And get sated by.
A scarlet ache,
Fey & fierce,
Whirling within veins like a dervish,
Who repudiates all & any claims on his identity.
Becalmed like a logician,
Whose sight can transcend yet stays resolute.
It’s a realm where all ropes uncoil themselves
And freedom sets sail to a tropical island.
A glittery redolent kingdom of contentment,
Where unrequited, divided & abandoned loves meet,
Dissolve their insidious elements
And become an abundant Armagnac, an infinite panacea.
Some scenes are unforgettable, they stay in your memory log & can recreate the rhythm of your heartbeats. Last night’s rain was that beautiful, poisonous & propitious, simultaneously. Dedicated to that moment … (The image has been picked from Google)