The Waves

How many times was it? How many poems was it?

Wonder if the mind is just drifting on its own, in its own course like an echo in the skies, unheard.

Are we there yet? The horizon I wonder.

If only a ray of light can shine and brighten the poetry, the pen could rest and make Love with peace and happiness.

How cruel can it get? Stripping the poems naked, making it walk with its head hanging in shame while the words jeer and cry.

Why do they cry I wonder? For the heart is falling in love with the darkness. Wonder how long the poems can steal the light from Sun.

How will the poems be remembered? For all the voices sing of is nothing but bleak hymns.

Who am I?

I truly marvel. A devil who loves the Angels? A twin soul drenched in both Black and White? What Am I?

Oh so the lamentations will begin you say. For the waves inside the tiny little world are rising high. Not to fall in love with the moon, not singing the romance anymore but to fall harder, drown the Earths below.

Oh so the words sing those songs about the unseen heavens and hells.

How long has it been since a poem about her was written? Where have you been the poems wondered? Here you are. Right in front of my eyes but unseen. A little embrace, isn’t that all needed to tame this wild mind of mine?

Let the poems drift and get lost in the embrace. For there is but a poem that I cannot write about. For every opus is incomplete, so will be mine.

Wave after wave, why? Why can’t the Earths stay down? Why do they fight back? Why do they rise? I wonder!

This desire to rise just to fall and be pushed deeper into the dust, such a joke.

Oh my lady in black, embrace the poems for the pride of Leo bows in silence. Wonder if it was pride or just a false illusion like the dreams of the past.