A BLEEDING WOUND

The wound of my soul,

It bleeds when my love’s wounded.

It bleeds when I hurt my love.

I connect with another soul,

I connect it with God,

I can feel the vibes of my goal,

And with the tears my love sheds.

My clashes with my sorrows open it,

The abstractness of hurting someone sores it.

I try covering my bleeding wound,

With a transitory happiness

This opens up once more,

When happiness precedes emptiness.

I know not of the eternal protection,

And not of the healing strength.

I know it will trod away,

The day the thread is cut and laid.

But that is a tale of eternal tomorrow,

Which stores a potion to heal my wound.

Who knows if the rays touch me living or dead

After a night of divine interaction

Which I know will not end.

I WALK DOWN AN AISLE

I walk down an aisle of dreams,

Trying to pick out the most dreamt of,

Finding it difficult to avoid the screams,

Of my lost labour’s love.

I walk down an aisle of love,

Grateful of everyone’s support,

Knowing their presence by my side,

Knowing they are by me to guide.

I walk down an aisle of pain,

Grieving  on the sunkissed sands of time,

Thinking of the good times that are stained,

Knowing that now my soul is all mine.

I walk down an aisle of  longings,

Longing for you to be by my soul,

Bleaching it of my ocean of tears,

Hiding my flower of love with a forest of fears…..

IN THE DARK

I move about in the darkest of nights,

Trudging through the mist of my thoughts,

In search of the faintest of lights,

In the sepulcher of my mind.

The souls around give a shrieking sound,       

Disturbing the calmness inside me,

Reminding me of the cries of my past,

Disabling me to see happiness around me.

The church has shrunk for me,

The trees don’t rustle anymore,

Leaving me lifeless for those around me,

Making the wounds of my soul sore.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF NATURE

The chirping of the birds in the morn,

The time of the day when roses are born,

The time of the first rays of the sun,

Is the spring of dawn.

Dawn then walks towards the day

As spring embraces summer.

The mangoes painted yellow lay,

For the first drops of rain.

Day comes across the sunset,

And summer changes into autumn.

The trees shed leaves and bare they get

To wear the snow of winter.

Sunset merges into the dark

As autumn gets lost in winter,

The roses lay under the grave

Waiting for the spring of dawn.