Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same
A poem that incorporates all the four seasons
The winter sat in me loud and galore,
Alas, the summer that once warmed the heart sings in me no more.
The beauty of life sets in its amorous swarm,
As the circumcircle of time mellows us to its charm.
Gentle as the wind, the mighty humans befall in its name,
A thing of beauty loses its luster as the stellar of its fame,
Absconds the defamed game.
Belief is the elixir that surmounts every dream,
They say a woman’s first blood comes from biting her tongue and not between her legs,
Alas in the agony of reality, the divine feminine screams.
Lustful eyes abhor the chastity of the pure,
Yet society tells a woman all the reasons she is deemed to endure.
Tales of eternal love in the books I have read,
Where the Almighty loved his Goddess in every breath,
The equality of two individuals marked the divine union of two souls,
Who in the completeness of devotion of one another, immersed in each other as a whole.
Alas in silent footsteps reality creeps in,
The whims of adulthood and the burden of responsibility emerge to win.
As I grew older, the idea of a love that oozes whirlwind passion lost its allure,
To the blinding pain of being in your twenties, the thought of stability succeeded in being its cure
The false notion of he is more than myself than I am, whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same forged to be counterfeited lie,
We live in a generation where half-broken hearts in their animosity belie.
Love bloomed in its spring, gentleness in every heartbeat it bled,
Alas mourned the fall of autumn, as the lover in me marked its death
-Hridya
About the Creator
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More stories from Hridya Sharma and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
That was very well written story shows your dedications