Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Adam & Eve

I am not a perfect imagination,
nor am I the steed-riding knight.
I am mere human, attempting to rise above
the grave fingerprints marked so graciously at night.
For though the traces still lurk behind closed doors
wired connections, and turned-off lights,
the naïve heart is still pumping blood at your lovely sight.
But still, that’s how naïve it is,
and “tough” indeed it should be,

along the passing minutes and forgotten seconds,
of attempting toughness, and sought-after “might”.

You know of weakness I am built,
seeking emotions amidst an unstable world.
You left me speechless, and speechless you had been,
following a mouthful nature, an unforgettable road.
And now you blame me, forever haunting me,
but off my shoulders, I brushed out the load.

Memories we build, and errors we need,
to fix it all, and grow on the seed.
A tip I shall give, a wise one indeed:
“never give in, or else a hurt dignity you will bleed.”

The "she" is Nested

The “she” is nested,

deeply rooted, mirrored with beauty,

and reflected in an innocent smile.

The once lost “she” has been restored,

passing through gradual evolution,

eliminating what was once a shadow of evil,

and cleansing remnants of muddy wreckage.

Thy “she” ignites a diminished inner passion,

it lingers within and without,

calling outrageously: “forgive and forget.”

It pushes, violently, for a peaceful self-reclamation,

congregating bizarre odds in thyself.