Transmutation
As the peacock-sage
waves of whimsical peace
faded in silence's
pale watercolors,
I masked my
eerie eyelashes,
with drifting
angel-mist smog.
For, I sensed the
wistful wailings of
ambrosial lilies,
encased in my
heart's crystal casket,
as wistful wildfire of
hatred incinerated my
wildflower-wonderings
and life's trepidations
exiled this bohemian
buttercup in time's
abstract moors.
I've forever wondered,
if sugarplum snow
upon these luscious lies
will ever hum the harmonized
secrets of a soulful swan
within me, who yearns
to transcend in these
tamarind tunes of liberty -
within a pearly birdsong.
Since many
sienna centuries,
carmine tears
of beasty roses
have been aching
to carve an escape
from the candlelit
cracks of this
Ice Queen's heart.
Waltzing through woeful
destiny's sinful deceit,
the enchanted witch
blanketed within my
wine nightmares,
seeks to surrender
towards a tender
transmutation and
cleanse every
harlequin heartbeat
of my tinseled
copper-soul with a
heavenly touch of gold.
For, am I nothing
but a citrine cacophony of
a crestfallen hummingbird,
who sheds her last
fluffy feather
as the moon hints
a melancholic hymn at midnight?
Can I ever be more than just
a bleeding silhouette of sin?
Perhaps, my alchemical
magenta muse has
orchestrated a mahogany
soliloquy upon those
sentimental stars and
revealed those pristine
turquoise truths -
that twilight conceals.
The eclipsed glow
of victimised sun
too aches for a miraculous
metamorphosis,
that could paint every
bougainvillea's burn with
empathetic elegies.
So, tomorrow,
when I wake up,
with ego shorn and
dignity stirred with
blasphemous scarlets,
boundaries blurred
as lethal logic
blends with naive
allure of love,
I don't desire to dream
of letting my skin
melt in eucalyptus embers.
Instead,
I hope to embrace this
jeweled journey ~
of dark and dreams,
of agony and allure,
of melancholy and magick,
of remorse and rendezvous,
of hoax and hearts,
of death and life;
~ where each forlorn feeling dazzles like a breathing moonflower of 'Joie De Vivre'...
Perhaps, when those
aesthetic estuaries
flowing in pastel phrases
from the honeydew abode,
shall streak glitters of
wisdom across the palette
of my dawning lifeline,
I will swirl in
meaningful tapestries
of metaphors, stained
with pigments of
those divine hues -
which define
my seraphic soul.
Copyright © Hiya Sharma | Year Posted 2023
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