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" Pardon me, 
if my soul has been p a i n t e d , 
with a lavender lake of solemnity, 
but, I'll  f o r e v e r  be a soulful siren, 
navigating midst neon s e a f o a m s , 
and sculpting an origami of honesty
~ like the archangels of heavenly faith "


When the 'Swans of Sun' 
sing in a soft echo,
behind silvery beams 
of oceanic clouds, 
I always become 
a winter's twilight, 
that misses those
subtle hues of silky spring, 
as bittersweet stars 
tremble and fall 
upon my misty eyelids, 
like ruby jewels, 
scattered with 
jasmine scents and 
falling on glass-tulips.

My story is more than 
speckles of glittery stardust, 
for, you shall hear 
the heartbeats of harp, 
breathing within me, 
and unfurling upon 
lotus layers of harmony, 
knitted by an eternal shine. 

Perhaps, ice crystals floating
on puddles of sunrays, 
too search for a purpose,
and compel life to chase
that rusting light, 
escaping from 
crackles of lead skies. 
I wonder, 
is my sakura moon, 
a sea of pomegranate promises, 
dipped in maple scars? 

Perhaps, my muse 
is forbidding me, 
and my paper kingdom
of sage and saffron,  
shall be soaked
in a scarlet sanctuary 
of aching phrases ~ 
arching beyond
aqua ashes of brokenness. 

There, my heart is crowned 
on a bleeding rose, 
as a 'spirit of rosemary runes', 
when its tears trace the
luscious lips of petals, 
laced with secrets, unseen. 

I'll always narrate 
these tangible tales 
to red robins, 
describing how a 
dynasty of dreams 
kept burning inside 
my poetic flames,
carving vermillion silhouettes
across pastel pages, 
where healing 
will be sketched, 
like a rhymeless perfume
and the immortal dove
will rest upon 
a pearly crown 
of snow-white hibiscus.

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