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Vision
At this dawn of "bon voyage",
after million escapades of
blindfolded fate, I'm trespassing
through the pirouetting pigments
of fading frolics and
windsurfing towards rose-oiled
beams of glossy sun as its
gossamer grandiose has
finally enveloped my soul in
sheath of marigold musings
and sceneries of sunflower
reveries where the dew makes
pencilled-promises of green and gold.
I have subconsciously
swathed my versatile vision
with serenity that snorkels
between seraphic 'C'est la vie'
threads of timeless marine tulips,
connecting cosmic dots of the
ornamented universe where
Pluto's philanthropic sights are
sequined as savoir vivre along the
dwarfed faith in my heart.
I now glide in buoyant embers
of scintillating space, passing by
blue brothers- Uranus and Neptune,
swinging on shiny rings of Saturn
and swirling in giant beige-brown
storms within Jupiter's merlot belts.
Mars greets me with a
dusky red wave, as I surf towards
venus' pearly white muse and
mellifluous ashes of slate grey
mercury, whilst immersing my
swan-sung hymns within
earth's ornate atmosphere painted
with beguiling azure, emerald jewels
and milky foam.
Similar as, sunshine sneaks into the
dove-white raindrops, sprinkling
phosphenes of internal reflection and
dispersing in chiffon hues of vibgyor;
Dipped in lavender cinders, I refract
seven shades of wildflowers within
my sienna spectrum and reflect pastel
strips of an ascending snowbird,
rising above the beaches embalmed
in crimson, flying across skies scattered
with roseate rust of the past and
arcing along the linen horizon, as
smoked carbon coated lenses of my
eyes neither hide these burgundy truths
wrapped in bittersweet buttercups nor
those lichen lies nestle in my sparkling ribs anymore.
My skull glows with whipped starlight
that no longer twirls in raven dance
of gloomy ballads as obsidian
silhouettes etched in silver mists
don't haunt me with their heinous intentions
of unseen reflections anymore, for,
thick iced flakes of frozen hours are
fading away in the brisk of amiable rays
and I'm reborn in helianthus fields.
So, if you believe to dwell
in dreamcatcher visions of
life's trajectories,
a twinkling tunnel towards
the North star eternally
coruscates as an eden
of fireflies above the crystal
creek and portrays that there's
always more hovering
beneath the celadon surface
of synthetic smiles if you
wish to seek beyond the
lavish lakes of polished peril.
Copyright ©
Hiya Sharma
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