T A C I T 02

In the soundless storms of aeon,
there’s a cascade at the folding vein;

Allied into musty submission,
there’s light somewhere in hazy cognition.

The dereliction steered in frenetic howl,
Combust the wild temper of my soul.

There’s a thread of pain to swallow,
that de-threads all my desires to follow;

In this hazy sessions of unvoiced thoughts,
I sigh the gain of many wonders I wrought.

M E T A M O R P H O S I S ||

The golden clock of yesterday,
whose hues blazed but to decay;
Alarming the hopes that flew away,
particles of me dispersed alongs the rays.

Of the subconscious mind,
engendered my dreams to blind;
I became propellant to fire,
and diminished by the rays to desire.

I am an unforgettable saga now,
I have kaleidoscope in my crown;
I glimpse into the multitude of colours,
and become the magnitude of stars.

A P R I C I T Y ll

On the wondrous equator,
on the mountains’ breast;
Swathing the horizon, the sun sets a curator
by the dreamy haze of crimson blaze.

Dreams gild by the beams of golden streams,
surfacing the haze, I embrace the supreme;
Clouds melted into radiance, and life,
mantling the day, twilight derived.

To the land that is divine,
ancient wisdom with a love sublime;
Over the cliff my fantasies drift,
In this layered dream, symphony of the lost song shifts.


Enclasped in the promise of uncertainty,
and conforming the perpetuity of my diversity;
I change the quotient of my tale Fervently,
to channel the vast dimensions of eternity.

Floating on this makeshift rock;
Scattered soul, adjoining the knock.
Sound of silence, frozen in rhyme;
The distant future creeps in spine.

Filaments of existence
traverses the elements of oddity,
De-threading the dimensions in vehemence;
I transgress the promise of uncertainty.


Towards the wide plain and fertile valley lands,
I see the road emerge, then disappear.
In this motionless gold and stillness expand,
I see the hues barter and twilight transpire.

Unrooted in some a-drifted rhymes,
unswerving trees’ scuffles that climb;
Autumn apricity, banding through my window;
Yawning my skin, the warmth I swallow.

Comforting the chill, I stroll in my dream;
Chasing the haze, I trace the sunset in gleam.
Briefest of pauses, frisson my spine;
When flagellating memories shape in hymn.

By The Rays

How quiet is the morning in the hills!
Air so chill and my heartbeats still.
Gorges so sonorous, and mountains intrepid;
Impulsed in this brief moment, my eternity resonates.

Shadowing the landscape in its vast flare,
ghostly rays came swarming the air.
Lost in this mountain, whistling my existence;
Surfacing my soul, my breathes assisted my deliverance.

Along the mornings swirls,
the materiality of life unfurl;
Too far-off worlds below and impulse so wild;
The light beds on mountain rims and emotions untied.


In the soft lights of this serenest skies;
The broad highlands, blanketed with pines.
With the wind crowding my vagrant soul;
Shadowing the landscape, flocculent clouds howl.

Bathed in the droplets,
my window screams;
Marched along the horizon,
the habitation of eternity beams.

In lands, I never felt;
Energy flushes on the virgin gold.
Inquest everywhere,
Observations omnifold.

The laughing hours,
chased away the night;
Plucking the stars out from her diadem,
borrowed by the sky, the moon yields the light.

Foundations of the heavens
are masses by the river;
I woke up to the golden hue
and worshipped the invisible alone.


Musca domestica on a morning greed;
Being a vector towards the new floral bed.
Succulent Trichostema, nefariously gorgeous;
Ornamental nectar, sensually generous.

The etanolic fragrant petals open up slowly,
Divulging their coveted sweetness all down completely.
Flapping so fast, embraced by precious wings;
Zooming around, the Musca swings.

Penetrating deep until it’s base,
Angelically sweeping every drop in chase.
Extracting the flavourful against the morning blue,
devouring flowers, opulence in all day pursue.

A Barren Dream

Flares of the Dreams in the dusk,
the far, deep things of dreamland;
The golden rims of the husk,
preserves grains of million dreams in sand.

The wings that cannot fly,
are the dreams of barren fields;
A single feather traversing the rays,
is now a particle for the map of lost dreams.

The only afterlife remembered,
is now in a form of stains of my dreams;
The one that is now surrendered,
was once a fecund field paused in rain.


I no longer feign tenderness,
I don’t dawdle in cynical love.

The perennial elements I face in all aridity,
and in annual shedding I embrace the loss.

My words haunt to transgress my sanity,
mishaps turned into perpetuity.

Swirling pain, running through my vein;
Ambiguity of cessation, no sign of rain.