A billow of a benumbed spasm,
Roared in the heart,
Jeopardizing the injured essence,
Of an extensive evanescent.
The toxic aura,
That emancipated from the pain,
Began to engulf the soul,
In a determined malediction.
A petrified fear,
Devoured brutishly,
And the heart rattled
Into further bloodied crumbs.
Glaring at the customary darkness,
That inundated the soul,
It stormed its unending anguish,
On a sheer paper.
A fragile fire,
Blazed in its eyes,
Witnessing the lie it wrote,
But also experiencing the peace it gave.
Soon,
A vehement flame,
Danced in the battered heart,
Of the defunct soul,
With a positive hope.
The unseen scars,
That the soul harboured
Indelible and immutable,
Glistened mightily.
The glowing scars,
Engraved in the ravaged heart,
Began to heal,
As they bloomed to words.
And the eternal journey of a beautiful writer began.
*****
YOU ARE READING
Entaché
Poetry'A poet is a liar, who always speaks the truth.' - Jean Cocteau An assemblage of my poems.
