Words From the Garden Of Forlorn Souls

A wish to reach that merciless breath of beauty,,

A wish to touch the coiled tangles, strands of a soul,

A wish to find a way out to let the whispers brush the fated mind,

And a wish for many a wish to be heard,

But only to find that none sound in that mind,

Standing in the graveyard of spirits,

Spirits, we wait to be called home by them,

But its weak, a weak soul that walks on that land,

Controlled by the feeble mind, A mind dimmed by the slashing blade of love,

Narrowed doorways, a struggle to breathe through vest of pain,

Fortitude is to feel the pain, to survive it,

But it threatens to tear through thy flesh,

Trapping it in the pandemonium of treacherous lies,

Lies carved by the human world’s thickening bubble of modals of survival,

Manipulations of tongues, our tongue has destroyed us,

Or is it our mind?

Love clasped in the scarred, roughened fist,

The fist of a dreadful beast, a beastliness of disbelief in love,

A love that emanates from the lonely lost eyes of a broken soul,

From the eyes of a mistress in waiting,

From the eyes of a lamb, from the touch of an innocent maiden,

We no more hear the screams of dying souls,

We no more hear the desperation of a motherless being,

We no more understand love as love,

we care not, we are blinded by the desire for that false sense of reality,

A worthless sense of safety as we following notions,

Safe from being lost in the realm of unknown,

We are afar from the man who became a man,

The man who found fire, who found passion, 

Who found love, who found his heart in another’s eyes,

Love is infinite  even in its infinitesimal existence,

Yet its flows only in the seas, blows only with the wind,

As man fades from nature, As man alienates his own nature,

Love remains veiled by colourless existence, 

It was a foretold destiny to reach the end,

To reach the tombstone that has the soul’s love etched on it,

Yet the cries resound from the garden of forlorn souls,

Demented greed, rising lust, demons inhabit the air,

And sorrow is fodder to all,

To some it is the wine of celebration, 

To some it is the poison, They drink in hopes of falling beneath the earth

And some drink in the remembrance of the merciless beauty. 

Categories: life | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Words From the Garden Of Forlorn Souls

  1. iku2e

    oh Prani, Missing you for long time! 🙂 I didn’t expect you will stop wandering on my blog 😛


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