Bound To Motion
Each to their own orbit, bound,
Each to their own center, wound.
Each in their own sphere, confined,
Each in their own spin, defined.
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Chosen becoming
A melancholic tribute to yester-self, A bygone tale of bejeweled grace, A trail of neural stretch marks left by the evolving thoughts, lingering echoes in corridors of what was once known as home, Soft imprints of hard earned labour of choices, Sting along the path of righteousness. A surreal path
Falling
I keep falling and falling To depths unknown. The ground didn’t come, And I didn’t care either. I was just so overjoyed With the feeling of weightlessness. Nothing at all mattered, Nothing at all. I dropped onto the ocean. I felt I was still falling Until the ocean
Where do you put sorrow…
That has no where to go? How do I describe an aching that is part of my soul? I’m aching and I don’t know why The things that I‘ve forgotten, somehow stay I forget.. and still my heart will remember as long as it beats My soul
Green Eyes
Your eyes, your beautiful olive eyes, They remind me of the season of spring. The way they sparkle feels like new blossoms after the rain, Fresh as fields kissed by the morning dew, They carry a promise of life anew, A garden of hope that grows within you. And every