This once youthful tree has leaned down;
It’s gone with age
Not a svelte trunk but a mossy torso
Leaves are yet green, firm branches still spring
Time and again, again in time
It breathes. It grows. It survives.
A kite set alight across the saffron sky
Streaked with fading periwinkle and hazy white
On the sea of vast space it traverses
Shades of violet will conquer soon
Or in a little while,
In a little while’s an impeccable twilight.
And there’s this turquoise sea
Whose waves to the shore and back
They rejoice in moments uncountable
Along their drags the arcane sands
Formed and reformed into shallow mystery
These immortal grains.
When diamonds are sewn in the heavens
Tonight the bonfire’s relighted
Graceful crackles and the scorch of embers
Will provide warmth
In vision-wide radius they’ll flicker
Forever’s to keep them aglow.
On this canvas their beauty remains
Weathered may be and beladen with perfection
Yet so elusive
In their stillness are bejewelled dreams
While emblazoned with captivation
An aesthete piece is worth of beholding.
Never can there be miracles
Never ever, can the canvas do
For broken is Rapunzel’s paintbrush
Neither can I live still nor can I yield life
Unlike the art of deprived motion
Which is living in beauty eternal.
From my heart’s a string of despair
Or has it been wrapped with burning ire?
While a tree stops growing, wind ceases blowing
Waves halt flowing and the flame’s never glowing
In the painting their lives are constant
And my life is but a constant change.
Like the motionless figures on this sedate canvas
Could I ever wish for a ditto life?
Grant me superlative powers to freeze time
For my breath to be held, my body benumbed
So all this pain I cannot feel
All these tears I cannot stream.
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