rain, a sable artist of liquid strokes,
dances upon the tired roofs—dim,
tacit confessionals
where whispers conspire in droplets.
vein-like, it trails, an osmotic script
flowing over the archives of asphalt,
slivers of light bend, refract within
each quivering puddle,
a shimmering sorrow, the fickle glass
of memory.

//captioned//

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Guardian of the threshold 'twixt
the vast sea and the sand,
with lantern-light, she holds
the night, gently in her hand.

//captioned//

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"A fog cloaking bridges between minds, obscuring clarity."

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In the quiet cradle of twilight,
Aloneness weaves its somber threads,
Dusk, a solitary painter, swathes
the sky in mournful shades.
Her brushes dipped in shadow,
streaking sorrows wide and deep,
A canvas vast, where whispers of
the night begin to seep.

Silken shadows drape the earth,
like veils of melancholy lace,
Longing, a tender specter, walks
with a haunting, silent grace.
Her eyes, two burning citadels, hold
stories never told,
In her hands, clutches tight, the
broken dreams that she enfolds.

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Speaks in the language of absence,
where the soul listens to the tales
unknown in the quiet,
trying to understand that in
the stillness lies
the profoundest sounds—the
heartbeat of inner worlds,
the breath of self-awareness, and
the whispering wisdom of the universe,
all conversing in the hallowed hush
of existence.

Silence of the soul,
plants seeds of soothing shadows,
each sprouts as a whispering bloom,
petals unfolding in mutes and murmurs,
growing under the moon’s silent sonata,
a symphony felt rather than heard,

//captioned//

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Sillage of moments gone,
A familiar aroma, that can never be begotten,
yet can never be forgotten,

Scent of nostalgia,
A potpourri of bittersweet memories,
Which perfumes our present and morrows
A whiff of longing, a flicker of pain,
A bouquet of emotions, that can't be contained.






//captioned//

-

Death pulled the strings
Leaving life unstrung...














//captioned//

-

Adorned with amber amulet
Gilding the sky with dazzling cloak
of dawn,
Orange Aurora draws nigh,
In radiant beauty, it is born.

-

My reflection,
A kohl-kissed spellbinder,
crafting illusions tender,
hiding the grief,
in a veil of perfected appeal,
whenever I dare to seek my true self
the unknown girl is ever present
in this hall of distorted jest,
greeting me with a mocking plea,
.
//Captioned//

-

here for a transient sojourn,
so enjoy their presence,
collect the precious moments
as souvenirs,
before it's too late, or
they perish/vanish away into
nothingness.

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