A mind and body by the Satan driven
Apathy- I am unforgiven.
Love’s labours lost, the past flashes by,
Unasked questions, unspoken they die.
Something has changed-no rhythm or rhyme,
There may no longer be a need, or maybe no time.
Darker than night as i stare at the sky
I frown and stare at the sun and wonder why.
Often so buoyant, sometimes a little low
A small chink somewhere, I do not know.
I do not feel true, but what I feel is not true,
Unanswered- are you unforgiven too?
He confided in her, and then he confessed,
His musings soon left her impressed,
Amazed by his visions,
And surprised by his passion.
Garlands he wove and songs he crooned
While the rain fell and the thunder boomed.
The water flowed away, so much like time,
There was no one to turn it in to wine.
As he kept on singing, eons elapsed
The sky lit up, and religions collapsed.
A new music formed, vivid and vibrant.
The air held its breath; the earth lay spent.
Senses exploded, a thousand bells tolled
Time stopped; upon the Holy Spirit he called.
The sun mellowed to a glow, it ceased to burn,
The value of his ballads, she started to learn.
Then he left her, the clouds embraced him.
She could but cry for her shattered dream.
(1)
The sun bore down with all its force,
The sparrow pressed on with its course.
A little bird flying, lonely and lost,
With grim determination, greater than most.
Wishing for a respite from the scorching heat,
Getting back to its clan will be an improbable feat.
Still it yearns for a sojourn with its mate.
If only the hot wind would abate!
Thirst soon supresses its urge to fly,
And it searches for water low and high.
Far away it spots a river, twinkling and clear,
It rushes to it for a drink, for its life dear.
But alas, it is only a mirage...
(2)
Fly on little sparrow,
You can not reach a mirage.
It is only an illusion
As it always was.
Fly on little sparrow,
Fly towards your sorrow.
(3)
Mirage...
The little one stops flapping its wings,
It falls out of the sky like an inanimate thing.
It falls, and falls, to rest on the sand.
It falls from grace, in a graceless land.
“Water”, is the last thought it thinks.
(4)
It rains, it rains, it rains so hard,
Wetting the wanting throat of the bird.
The sparrow comes back from the dead
And the desert dances for its love.
A mirage...
A miracle; blessings showered from the heavens above.
Riding home on lightning, he strikes with thunder
The gallant ways of the maverick, fills the heart with wonder.
Squandering through the sleet; the pride immense,
With his head held high, the evident arrogance.
Bringing back with him, the evergreen flames,
The fire of life: the power he tames.
His haughty eyes, alive in the Godly radiance,
Say there is no such thing as a game of chance.
Gathering the darkness, the source he burns,
The secret of creation, the secret he learns.
Breaking hell asunder with his weapon of love,
The defeated hallucinations; and the flying dove.
The fragrance of victory on the insurmountable peak,The guiding beacon, once again, the maverick.
The pungent fluid coursing through the veins,
The headless horsemen holding on to the reins.
A nauseating scenery and the spreading chill
Supernatural powers buried under the hill.
Ancient knights jousting in the cold
Bringing back to life, yarns of the old.
The crowd egging them on: the dust rising
Readying for battle; their armour shining.
Waiting for the sun to rise, the challenging dawn
Both are sure of their might, one will be proven wrong.
Skill and speed, and tactics grand,
Facing the enemy; the erstwhile friend.
The elegant steeds rearing, the thundering hooves,
Their sinewy coats and the evasive moves.
Aristocratic honour; a battle unto death,
Warring with the foe till the last bit of breath.
The dying gasp; the victorious cheer,
The smile of the winner; the fallen’s blood stained gear.
The quiet evening in the neanderthal land,
.
