~*~*~
Summer has come and gone,
And the fragrance of these soft memories,
Hang heavy in the air.
Leaving traces of a life I once had,
Lingering on in the touch of your breath,
Fleeting, always fleeting, never to be caught,
These memories I have tried so hard to hang on to.
Memories, forgotten or destroyed.
~*~*~
Somewhere along the woody roads, the icy cold streams of one’s imagination can be heard, beckoning the unknown to come forward and take a plunge into the night. The woods are a lovely place, for it is where the earth comes into existence, where the earth becomes a fountainhead for all the beauty, for all the life, for all the wonderful things that nature has given us.
The song birds chirp happily, letting the song of their heart diffuse into the air, until a faint fragrance of life itself hangs lightly in the atmosphere. The Spirit of Dreams descends into the forest and brings with him the dust of hope, sprinkling it onto all that can be touched, and the soft glitter of this dust warms the heart and brings to it solace from the storms of everyday life. Silken threads of sleep bind us and gently lay us on the forest floor to become one with the meaning of life, and bring to us the cravings of our hearts. What would we be without nature’s dust shimmering in the twilight bringing ease to our minds?
The streams are made of crystals, sparkling like rainbows formed at the first shower of spring. Like cubes of ice, the water slips off the tips of our fingers, leaving traces of a frigid freshness. The golden fish glide through the silver moonlight, catching the rays on their fins as they dance to the music of life. The river cleanses all the dirt in our souls, leaving us at peace with a polished heart of gold. The water heals all that it flows over, and the blood of our hearts is returned. The water spirits smile brightly on the river bed.
The wind locks the trees in a dance inescapable, bringing to life the heart of the woods. The leaves rustle, the branches shake, and the blossoms fall, making a carpet at our feet to lead us softly into the heart of its dreams. Butterflies flutter, playing games with the ancient and wise trees, laughing as the leaves fall softly to the ground. The leaves are Mischief himself, harmless but fun, shading us from the moonlight, and letting in the sunlight at noon. The trees admonish these little fluttering leaves, leaving a mist of their breath hanging loose in the air, waiting to fall onto our eyelids as we sleep. Oh, dancing leaves, swaying trees, keep the world at your feet and protect it.
Dewdrops on the mossy floor glisten at the crack of dawn, like embedded diamonds singing the song of their soul. Each flower having flavored dew, attracts the honeybees to sing softly, whispering in their ears. The drops on the grass bring to the musky Earth a gift as they trickle down the stalk. The dewdrops bring a promise of life renewed, a life we have only dared to dream of. As the day does progress, growing older, unto death, the dewdrops slowly disappear, with a vow to return at the rebirth of a new beginning. They are tied to the dawn of a new day, the birth of a new start, these dewdrops of my heart.
Sadly, the beauty is fading fast, merging into the artificial pseudo-ecstasy, the temporary intoxication given by the most lethal of drugs. The song of life grows fainter at every passing moment, as more of nature is taken away, to heed the addiction of the material world. If only we could learn to live in harmony with the life around us, if only we could respect this special gift, this gift of nature, the elixir of life and death. There is no intoxication, like that of nature dwelling in our hearts.
Note: I got the above image from Utsav’s Blog.
~*~*~
‘Twas the song of a solitary nightingale,
The sadness and beauty satiated the air with warmth.
Ne’er hath this heart within me been so lively,
As when thou looked into mine eyes and saw my soul.
Oh, this evanescence of beautiful dreams,
Had they lingered even the length of a moment longer,
Their beauty would have faded into the night,
Leaving a soft mist in place of these dreams of mine heart.
When I dream of thee in the wisp of the night,
I feel thy presence around me, e’en in mine heart.
And I wish the night stretches on for eternity,
That I might feel thy friendship wrapping around me always.
Thou art the cherry blossoms in early spring,
Showering this earthen beauty with thy soft petals.
The branches heavy with thy goodness and love,
And a promise, in the heart of thy admirer, for a new dawn.
The reflections on the flowing river, of a sun recently risen,
The birds singing their morning songs of joy.
Unquenchable thirst for time to come to a standstill,
Mine heart divided between my wish and the will of thy mind.
Thy voice lingers in the air, my thoughts inundated by thee,
My voice beckons thee to hold me in thine arms.
I wait, eagerly, desperately, to hear the faintest reply,
But the silence, so deafening, returns me not a sound.
The moonlight illuminates, when the sun hath set,
Only thy voice can brighten the shadows of mine heart.
Silently I pine in the darkness, for a glimmer of light,
Fading, falling, into these endless depths.
If thou hadst known the turmoil of mine heart,
Would thou hast left me more than the touch of thy breath?
Nay, to thee, I was but a stranger, no different from another
To me, thou wast mine only reason to smile.
~*~*~
I still remember the day these photographs were taken. It seems like another life or a dream too good to be true. It was a dream too good to be true. Those were the happy days, that are no more.
~*~*~
Muse
‘Twas a soft song in the air,
That whispered dreams into mine ears.
Butterflies stroked the summer rays,
With the beat of their gentle wings.
These dreams did fill mine heart,
With little joys meant to disappear.
The warmth of the wildflowers,
Did touch this lost soul from within.
The softness of thy voice,
Struck a chord in mine heart.
Thou lovingly tuned the strings of my soul,
And made me thy muse much loved.
The sky blushed from adoring innocence,
As the music of mine heart hung heavy in the air.
The sweetness of thy song,
Filled my world with everlasting hope.
Honeybees suckled in pools of nectar,
Flowers grew brighter at every passing day.
Dewdrops on the grass glistened in the morning,
Dancing to the melody that filled the sweet air.
Thou played thy muse so lovingly,
In tune with the song of thy heart.
Ne’er hadst the world heard such love,
Sung from the common core of two souls come together.
Thou wast an artist, in love with thy instrument,
Caressing her strings gently, lest they break.
All were in awe of thy heart’s warming music,
Most of all thy own muse who sang.
Thou ne’er let another touch her,
She sang only the will of thine heart.
A queen she was, in the palace of thy verse,
Thou inspired reverence in her eyes.
With use, the best of things, wear out,
As didst the muse of thine heart, thy love.
An instrument old, is meant to be forsaken,
Yet thou didst not wish to give up thy love.
Artiste thou wast, thou art, thou shalt always be,
Thine heart wast ne’er mine, but of thy talent.
If only, mine heart could be an instrument more skilled,
Might thou ne’er hast left me.
Sadly, ’twas a time long ago,
Now the strings of mine heart lie broken,
The once magical muse abandoned.
An instrument unskilled for the artist,
Has no fate but everlasting silence,
As the virtuoso finds himself a muse better suited.
Alas, this muse forsaken, heartbroken, forgotten,
Lays down to sleep, forever, under the misty sky.
~*~*~
Inside the Mind of a Lunatic 