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In Hope, we Live!

Petals of roses, petals of crimson hues so ancient
Laid now on these solemn words of this world.
Was I in a dream, or was I well treading through
The feathers and tossed among the wings of angels?
There are now stones thrown on paltry sculptures
And fear reaming through the veins of that victory.
What was the dream? What was the dream?
Shouted the old man on the same crossroad.
If we can pause, if we can breathe the same air
we started our journey, and touch of the breeze.

We fake to whom if not the soul, to gather hope
To face the truth of that dream we love so much.
Our journey can’t be an epitaph over that stone
If not the honest air among the moonlit nights.
Settle O’ soul, there’s so much peace in passion;
There’s the possibility of life when we are gone.
I will write again, take hues from those petals
And hymn though the marble into the sculpture.

Hope is in those eyes that surround us all through.
We will rise again to peace and fall again in love.

A silent wish

And we judged the play with our pestered intellect,
But not with the heart that beats through time.
One dream dies, one more is born, a dream we live.
Among propelling prophecies of sultry stones so straight,
There surely will be foliage that will grow and rhyme;
What seeds we sowed, how we watered and hope give
more wings for the dream to lives so more abject,
and undaunted by the flickering thoughts of our race.

Leave now, drop the thought that burns your soul.
Not timid at all, nor meaningless the pursuit is;
Every King dies, every empire falls, victory will brawl
Amid changing thoughts that push the other piece.
The sky is vast, it ought to be for so many dreams
Trade through it, some sail, some wait for the wind.
Walk every step with trust, breathe the air of freedom.
Let every touch heal and smile more till we are home.

Inked in Love

Sometimes our breath is the greatest song,
That ears will not hear, but the heart will lend.
Drops of our tear and smiles will more belong
To the dreams of life cast now on a stones end.
Lips smearing among the seduced air of this land
I often revoked and retired from thoughts of you.
But I stand an inch taller, an acre more green
Every time someone says it’s love and it’s true.

I know the nights, I live that dream, and I still play
The same flute among the cold wind and still play
To cross the clouds in the dark to say I love you!
Let peace find you and time leave you alone in grey
To mould into apparitions of our most innocent day
And night filled with stars say with smile, I love you.

What amateur beats in the heart of this holy fire?
Only feathers burn beleaguered in the prism of time.
The wind that shines with this shivering soul
Flies far to those distant memories and rhyme,
Restless, reared wretches of the ruptured goal.

What ink does this vein blow with so much hatred?
So much in itself, so much making moments mourn.

The Swans now sail among the whiteness of the moon,
Among the coldness of the calm uncounted morning.
What blindness has these generations brought so soon?
Our soul doesn’t hold the wealth we gathered in living.
There is this breath that goes so deep, so much making
The vision blurred and ears yearning to true love’s tune.

We are the immortals, only we know when we leave.
We are the smiles we see, we are all that we give.

The Moment

To be born is a mirror of the possibility to be reborn.
We conquer not cadence, but the silence of our soul
With unheard attempts of love among sails now so torn;
What legend shall these oaks sing, what wood to burn?
Among intrepid torrents of desolate wind there’s madness
Of the soul, there is passion in every passing vision.

We are the story we tell, we are the music we play;
We are not idols of cold stone, but a dream of clay
In every child’s soft hands who will be born again
Among journeying times, through the heat and rain.
We will meet again and will talk those moments lived;
The blue sky, green fields and the dreams we believed.

War or Peace

The Soul's Whisper

On a horse wild, burgundy and smart,
He travelled miles to catch.
Through cotton fields and the blue sky;
He followed the dragon’s shadow.
A vow that he spelt, the oath he lived
Had glimpses scattered of a martyr’s heart.

There were shepherds who saw him,
And Paths that have heard his horse’s hoof.
Somewhere when he stopped to see;
There were lives miserable than war.
Somewhere yet again there is a dream
To defeat the huge wings of misfortune.
Through the woods and the rivers,
Cutting the greenery apart like in verse;
There is a great truth to witness.

There is great peace, greater gain,
Not in war but in love again.

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The Prayer

 
What battle does this baffled baton lead
In these desolate hours for decrepit sailors’ oars?
The mutiny in a moment tests the greed
Of ours, of legends we know who still in course
Tussle their thirsty swords with ire indeed.
Let peace not preach any more, let the course
Break every intellect, to find the soul’s feed.
Live on hereafter with the same love and light,
Till our wings flutter and decide its true flight.