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Poem

With the winding weary wings spread wide,  
I fly aimless in the turbulent air of discontent, 
across the fading hues of the ruined rainbow,
where I get caught in the clutch of curling storm clouds. 
The silver lines disappear in the drape of darkness, 
where I see the birth of the rueful rain drops 
drain into the debris of shattered sky that falls, 
making the torrential tears of the melancholic night. 

My vision turns into opaque onyx of obscurity, 
can't see though the mangled maze of time and space. 
I whirl in the sanguinity threshold within storm vortex, 
get dumped in the depth of depression, 
where dreams demolish and hopes splinter, 
the shards of the wrecked mind drift to desolate deluge. 
I close my wounded wings in agony, 
the gloomy gust takes me to the realm of remorse. 

That’s when after the storm-torn distraught night, 
the divine dawn blooms with sunburst splendor.  
The seraphic shine enters my soul on the beam of bliss, 
unfurls my folded wings in the devout air of submission.
So, in the vastness of the inner serene sky I fly again,  
across the calm continuum of eternal peace,  
for it is to be the only way designed for me 
to traverse tranquil the tumultuous life.

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