Montage

The city lights blinking

and making the ribbons of ethereal.

Procured in their own 

eccentricity 

lies a sleek belt 

of a maroon haze

trying to manifest 

a turmoil and a propaganda.

A make belief

life of peaceful bliss.

Eternity silenced and the 

rain dripping off the

hearts of benches on the park. 

And, oh how the white dove

flew with its own sound,

dusting itself 

of the rain. 


How definite it is,

always!

Someone loving the rain,

Someone cursing the rain---

and within that epiphany

lies the esteemed feeling. 

A feeling of neutrality,

living the indifferent. 


Hush the shady leaves,

the droplets they let go. 

The wuthered way 

of falling apart,

too deep, 

too bold, 

and existing of a montage,

bewildered,

bejeweled,

and hazes, 

and glazes,

cooking the blood-stained euphoria

and cutting down the edges. 


How delicately the rain sweeps off the stains!


The bond I make with bondage,

sheer is the work,

and bear I pain. 

Loosely losing 

the marvelous flow,

and waiting for time

to fall back again.

Oh! the purity of blue light in heaven's window,

the gazing catastrophe of a soulless foul,

the dwelling of pathways, 

and how broken are they!

Strained, strange and estranged are the falls,

and liberty, it gifts. 


A gift packed in a box!


Oh! how beautiful is the canvas wrapping, 

Oh! how beautiful is the rain and the lights,

Oh! how beautiful is thy blessing,

lest my eyes are free!

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