Talking of moments, minutes and hours,

How can it all be explained:

Every strum of fleeting silence,

Longs for the Karmic pattern to reshape.

Why should souls so alike,

Be thrown on different sands,

Why minds and hearts that harmonize,

Be obedient to Fate's magic wand?

Laughter is a wonderful disguise,

A mask that nobody can take off,

No eyes see the sunset, sunrise,

The whirlpool inside is just a cough...

Understand O caring soul - You know,

How intense is unwept sorrow,

Do you think I feel not your heartbeats?

Let not discord or doubt stir the rhymes,

And you will see my smile in all your lines...

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palewingedpoetess's picture

Oh the wondrous weary lanes we poets weave our deeper selves around and to. capturing , enchanting then annihilating the reader just when they think they have found their footing in the words writ to attach themselves more fully to. This that I speak of sir is what poets seek in their poetry to do and you did it with such subtle yet all the more brilliant aplomb. The poet in me felt you were writing this for me yet I knew it could not be for you wrote it more than seven years ago but my how I would have loved to meet you the very day you wrote this. My soul she would have sang your praises from every pulse point line. You dwarf me in talent this way! know who........... again so why type it!

palewingedpoetess's picture

Beautiful, Just Beautiful. My big worded brain is giddily sunned into silent awe! That's quite a feat you have pulled off Sir Poet, leaving me wordless and rambling on........
I loved this know who! why type it? laughs