So he said, let it be told this way,

A tale not meant to supercede,

Who cares what they might say,

Would it matter if we go our own way?

Alas!

It does in so many clauses,

A cause that might brings upon many sadness.

Let it be told this way,

This way, it would be a sincere depiction of your stay,

There need not be a need for anyone to pave the way,

For your being is constantly in my wake,

In our wake,

Warmth and comfort resurfaces,

The colorful garden resonates,

Our feelings forever immaculate.

Away, distant, high on a milestone,

Trust, distrust and other misdirection’s;

Timely, A connection was born,

Bearing fruit to a feeling long gone,

One that gave birth to a magnificent bond,

The two sitting close together,

Hand in hand, embracing each other,

Serenely steadfast against endeavors

Sensitive, caring and insightful,

She…my type, my cup of tea, the apple of my eye,

Oh will you stop!?

Bothersome is this mind,

Reminding of cruel consequences,

No need for a taste of reality!

Aghast!

But…

Floating in tranquility,

Calm they remain in companionship,

Devoid of logic and any methods of reckoning…

Temporary as it may be,

Pointless it could be,

Still it touched the very depth of the ocean’s floor,

Protruding lively sparks,

That bore a flame and lit up the deep sea,

With a flare full of delight, it resonates…

  

Illogical, unreasonable,

This is a tale not fit for this world,

A story transpired in a universe…

Where two beings were oblivious of the world,

So days, weeks, months dispersed over the years,

Still the flame breathes and continue to subsists,

At the bottom of the sea where no man exists.

The days, daze & maze

Worry—eat curry, scurry…no, not in a hurry! Soon all those memories, pointless to bury, infatuated with happiness yet best friends with misery and his friend named dreary, just like dairy, a defense mechanism actually, one that has now failed and taken over, no longer steady, the boat shaky, the defense flaky. The path is slippery, one slip and there goes his soul in entirety. What is the future, what is the world, when hauntingly it appears as if scums, idiots are in control of the world and it appears as though animals in human forms are in control of the lives of yours and mine…or at least, the lives we believe to be mine and yours?

How untrustworthy, ‘the next day will come by shining’, they say with a smile and a frown, yet they know not what tomorrow has been planned for thee, verily they too are plotters, yet re-assuredly he said, ‘there is no re-assurance’. Maybe I should get some insurance? Now, now I can anticipate negligence and get through accidents with assurance. Such is the world, pleasant not for the peasants...who can’t afford even insurance, only faith in the omnipotent.

Gloat arrogantly, why not? I only have a goatee, so I’ll remain timid with whatever self-worthy left instilled in me, murky—under waters where is this thing called self worth? Who decides on worth or self-worthiness? The pigs or the ones governing them? Self praise, now that’s something I am acquainted with, when there is no praise, the self tries to accept itself and creates empathy, empty empathies, a day dreamer, hallucinating made-up fantasies, picturing praises from those deluded wide in numbers. Hedonists, hard workers, hard to party…doctors’ who are heart-dead, reviving hearts, beating once again, a piece of meat, no light, none of the sort…only the rulers of the world, the hearts are dead, priorities widespread, a calamity, that’s what it is, beating hearts devoid of a light that transcends; one that brings about not benevolence…what upraising? Shrouded are the hearts with shreds of greed and dark entities.

Tied to a pole, hung to a trunk, stretched out entirely, they look at him appraisingly, what do they know? Nothing, not even aware of the fact that they’re only in abundance with deficiencies. His eyes sunken, he smelled of a skunk to the people whose hearts are hard like dry dungs...He smiled to a girl passing by, what boldness! He is stilled with desire, a man without self-worthy yet cursed as a man who awakens upon sensing a scent from the heavens, his sunken eyes emitted with life. The girl then looked at him she smiled back, his heart immediately enveloped by warmth, comfort and nice. He was about to open his mouth, she stopped him with her hand, she picked up a stone and threw it to his groin. She stood closer now, observing the man in pain and then she smiled again, the man deluded by her scent, felt obliged to please her, so he tried his best to make a smile. Such is the man, gentle and kind and obviously blind with no mind.

Tomorrow! Nay the near future, the far future, a child then a teen, insufficiency in entirety; grateful not from what you can see and now an adult who is trapped in adolescency, what is puberty? In my search for answers, meanings, wisdom amidst deficiencies, now I am facing my demise? Fret not for the path hath been found, now-now not a man who is re-born, but more like a blind man without his stick, trying to surpass the world and its murky grounds, guarded by hounds and heavy thorns.