The Flow of Rhythms
Words … they can feel like a scalpel,
An epitome of despair,
Or cute little angels and beams of Light.
Sometimes, they enter our core like darts,
Or shine like magic lanterns,
At the apertures of Heaven.
Words, orchestrated by a gifted Wordsmith,
Revive the presence of scented Keora,
On the wet shrubs of a Bard,
Unfurling a silken tassel,
Of glory and grace.
I hear the sweet humming of nightingales;
The enchanting songs of redbreasts;
They remind me of a tapestry of eloquence:
The immersive sublimity of psalms unparalleled.
O Lover! Your glorious embrace,
Shines with the rays of moonbeams,
And I am stunned with amazement.
By Your charismatic charm.
When I listen to the cadences of my fragrant Angel,
I hear the melody of minstrels;
The songs of golden showers, falling upon the wind,
Flooding and nurturing my inner Temple.
It is then that I pull the moon down,
Which shines like a beacon in my darkness.
Seraphim’s, sunbeams and twinkling stars,
Kiss my breath endearingly with their Delight,
And my being thrills with an ecstatic pulse,
Celebrating the splendour of inner rhapsody.
Sweet Love! I felt the depth of Your supernal rain,
Dowsing the very flames of Hades,
Your words floating on the windows of my Soul.
I soared, like an eagle, to the edge of a resplendent Light,
Floating in ecstasy, on the crest of a scarlet-crimson-hued horizon,
Bathing and dancing, with Your naked silhouette, my Queen.
Come into my Heart, O Lover,
Let Your lustred beauty continue to glimmer,
Even in my abyss of despair,
Your words, like velvet glue, sealing the cracks
Of my inner Sanctum,
Carrying a carousel of beautiful Lamps;
Shining with the opulence of Silence;
Offering an unspoken sweetness to the Soul.
So many cadences in life
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