kundalini
When the saint sun
is reborn from
the womb of wisteria,
rising above symphonies ~
scripting a saga,
of enlightenment
and coral coloured karma,
I ripple in rosettes,
as an avatar
of himalayan heartbeats ~
gently gushing
in lavender lullabies
of golden Gaia ~
her earth-glinted garlands
cradling me
in hues of efflorescence,
stained within
pashmina petals of philosophy.
And I'm neither a haze of humanity,
nor an archangelic allure,
but a marigold mist of emerald ethers ~
ferrying in her custard caress
akin a daughter of dreams,
in her guardian's galactic gardens.
As the heat of hatred
tarnished my tranquility,
sculpting me
like a petrified Phoenix ~
anchored in ashes,
aching to be caressed
by the flame
of phosphorescent prayers ~
I've emerged with grace,
beyond hoaxed horizons ~
emanating
solivagant sparks
from the seraphic third eye ~
casting an electric arc,
that enchants
every treacherous traitor,
to cage themselves behind
velveteen violets ~
so that their sins be rinsed,
and every vein vibrates
with elixirs of moksha...
" I'm the kyanite kundalini
in this kohl-smudged kismet
of kaleidoscopic stars...
a karma yogini ~
shielded in His shelter
from the venomous visions
of fragmented fears...
I'm the heart of the sky
and the healing of the sea ~
adorned with metaphysical sepals
of the moon and her hyacinth pink aura ~
blossoming in a cosmic cluster
that shines with
symbols of sympathy..."
I'm no wordsmith,
rather, a soulful griever, forlorn ~
whose words have evermore
ceased to exist
in the creases of trust ~
so, breathe me in...
as a remedy in the unseen...
hear me ~
transcending beyond
amethyst leaflets of Trinity,
where the astral fields of aries
remain aurous and aglow ~
with peridot pulse of peace
and lucifer lifelines of love...
I am,
the sorceress of saffron sunsets ~
a soliloquy lost in the scriptures of serenity,
I am, a scarlet sanctuary
of unapologetic silence ~
surfing in mermaid alphabets
that sing sirens of telepathy ~
bestowing benevolence upon frosted islands,
as a child of the Almighty...
surrendering this seventh soul
to the Empyrean Emperor,
I soar beyond suffering ~
touching those truths,
weaving a visceral mosaic
of whispering wings,
that reverberate in
saccharine rhythms
of spiritual sonnets
and synonyms of redemption,
forevermore
speaking the language
of liberty and life...
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2025
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