Death and I had a rendezvous.

Scrambling through my ecstasies, I stumbled across the depths of blue,

On my way to my deathbed, I and Death had a rendezvous.

Inked in paper, the prowess of their might slays every breath,

The syllables whether marching on paper or strolling through the flair of air,

Render every piece of the shattered reflection, draining the last morsel of happiness it bred.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The light that beholds existence often loses its way into the dreariness of despair,

In its failed attempts to kindle the flame, it dissipates into the detection of foul play of being fair.

Humans die at 25 and are buried at 75, a notion that seeps into the crevices of every broken heart,

The ones who put counterfeited smiles to hide the agonising pain of their soul that is torn apart.

-------------------------------------------------

Pretence is a romp that strives to be the master of deception that one plays,

To be a symbol of status and starlight, the glory of the hidden animosity must eternally stay.

The game of forged smiles is not for the ones with a faint mind,

For you would be killed if the truth of your aspirations one may find.

---------------------------------------

You must die a little before the wheels of time strike their charm true,

Metamorphosis in its essence plunges us from the traces of oldness to the peaks of new.

On my way to the deathbed, I and death had a rendezvous

Shedding every ounce of me, I embraced the depths of the blue.

If you may, let my words seep into every terrain of our existence to be,

I hope you do not let the muggles dim the light that radiates the beauty of thee.

-Hridya