Seraphic Embers
I've always
wandered in
venus' orbs,
searching for
the star-seed
of my spirit that
has forsaken
it spiritual
sanguinary and
caged every
fluorescent flicker
in a sculptured
sanctuary of
materialistic
metamorphosis.
Wondering -
what am I,
in the camouflaging
shades of conscience
which streak
abstract hues
of ambiguity.
Are we mere
seraphims of
flesh and bones?
Or, are we just
polished pawns of
pirouetting lies?
What are we,
If not a twisted
repercussion of
our maple musings,
amongst amber
desires that burn in
an eternal flame?
Don't we coruscate
somewhere above
magenta bubbles
of dawns and dusks,
that float upon
creamy eyelids
of earth -
embraced
in the chic arms of
honeycomb sun.
I believe, I'm
a champagne breeze,
fluttering in
citrine shine,
like the fall of
last bronze leaf,
floating on
chiffon sheath
of sakura lake and
striving to fight
off the silence
that surges within
those stormy swirls of
glacial ripples,
like a swordless
samurai.
I've been aching
to shred every
toxic sepal that
poisoned each
lush petal of
newborn buds,
who used to
fruition from
crystal cotyledons.
Their thoughts
were tinted with
fickle thistles,
ebbing upon
decaying beliefs,
shattering in
streams of
saturnine wails.
I am, but a
mosaic of
Mona Lisa,
not carved by
any nectar of
gold-acrylics,
by flawless fingers,
of a philosophical
artist, but blended
in abstract
terracotta textures
of silverine
soul chakras.
Our mantra
is like those
roseate rivulets
within aqua amulets,
who keep
gushing against
tawny tapestries,
glowing with passion
and desiring to
reach towards those
orchestrating oceans.
So, when the
strawberry scents
of sandstone tulips
have rotten and
my apricot angst
smears burnt orange
wildfires across
pear orchards,
where canaries
chirp in mellow
melodies of sorrow,
I'll hold life's butterflies
close to my
crescent-cores,
forever remembering ~
"I'm a butterscotch sunflower,
yearning to rise
like pink-quartz-ash,
in salty sunglow
of summery sonata,
when ochre drops
entwine and twirl,
with my scorched lifeline..."
"Who am I,
if every evanescent end
and beginnings of a million yesteryears
breathe in me?"
~ We're the 'coeur de lumière précieuse',
- a magick that never fades,
~ as our inner child, still smiles...
Copyright ©
Hiya Sharma
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