Euphoria

They didn't know What it meant To bleed of wounds Yet they wanted it While screaming of ashes Of love, of heart, of dreams They couldn't comprehend Nor acted of defiance For they barrened living souls And put ablazed a thousand flowers The deadly rituals seeked of tides While the sinking one remained aloof

Head bowing to the knees Feet curled gathering the pearls Reddishness of light swirling around Scarf hovering around placidly Hustle of nature bestowing wishes For she is quizzical for left over Of the gusts bringing alive Omen of the forgotten beauty All she hassled for amassing To the bounty of unending faith

And those glittering eyes of yours, Of prism radiating beams of secrets, Unleashed them one by one, Of it colors which embraced me all alone. The curves of your mystic smile, Speaking of the unhealed wounds, Unwrapping the mystic leaves; For its shadows dance through me. *** Lo! You stand alone ashore, Gazing into mirror of unending seams, My hands bruised of holding you together, Like a broken glass of cracked decor. Of charismatic reflections that strays you away, While the moon mourns of the unseen stains, For the me is no longer part of yours, Broken; wrapped up; gone. *** Crisp of autumn leaves soothes me, For the road is never tired of lonely souls, Steps; familiar one; silence. There you stand gazing at the moron. Your eyes glitter of the same glory, Your smile speaks of the mystic old, Alas! You find you words shackle, For the living one speaks of none. *** You speak of words I forgot, Of all I see a humane figure. You left me at the unwan...

Of the balls and glamour Rhythms of dancing tunes Gleam of the blazing lights Of promises and melting hearts Glittering galaxies of withered nights The stories of the enchanted old Lost into the dust of glittered past While gazing into the forgotten memoirs She is destined to turn over pages And sings of courage and faith For she is the princess of her own dreams

I made shadows, of believers, in the reigns of darkness.

Of the enchanted world Which tunes of rhythms A melancholy of beautiful knit Woven into reverberates A nightingale sits alone Bemoans the lost voice

Through the evilness, whimpered a grieved soul, of its groveness; an unending panorama. While pain snuggled, and exempting it, of its very existence; a sting of past was enough, to make it roar of nothingness.