Fading Photographs

The face of sparkling spring shines on the convivial tapestry, spread on the luminous landscape of the vibrant vivacity of the face, engraved with the dreaming blue lagoon of eyes and the lotus petals of luscious lips, portrayed in the pulsating photograph of the charming countenance, desgning the narcissist features of innate pride. The ordained kaleidoscopic turn of the timeless wheel of transformation vacillated the vista of life’s lattice embedded in the mindscape, mimicking chameleon skin colors of the ash wasteland or the emerald meadow. On the journey across desolate desert dunes, or along the glittering garden path in spring, my mind’s shutter opened in lightning speed, capturing the picture of beauty in collage. The turmoil of time scraped on the wrinkled photograph, the spider of winter in twilight hour weaved the web with endless senile lines. As the hollow eyes gazed forlornly at the weathered wasteland, the lilac lips lost the patina of the wilted flower’s wasted fervor. My hedonist psyche refuses to gauge the grievous grief of loss, as the face morphs into metaphor for panorama, sculptured within the snapshot of untarnished concealed charisma. The shards of the splintered sky in the swirling gale of sordid sense, roll on the dismal waves of the curled up onyx cloud. The remnant rays of sanguinity survive still in the departing flashes of the sinking sun, fabricate the latent lattice of unframed dream within the petrified visage, alive in the fading photograph.