May blossoms everywhere pink and bruised. a full, bulbous heart. torn, trampled pulp of fleshy petals on the sidewalk bleeding into the thick veins of summer’s gleaming cobalt. watering the day with the timbre of another lie. night buzz and stagnant warmth, hung a secret laden with humid pain and his laugh. vacant sorrow that laid a stone with belief. May’s tale is May’s shame.
In this interlace Between the branches Of a hundred deserted trees Where the light chose To shine into Their deep marsh Underbelly of unknown. Here life has arrived again Into another year, Into her, As she learnt to Melt into time And smile from Within her heart- The warmth for her winter. At this oddity called Time.
every gossamered corner of objects and memories, once owned. Shadows of yesterday you thought you overlooked. Veins touched by the soft glow of an evening longing for impossibilities. Wine half drunk brooding into the dissection of maybes’. Eyes that never met to spill volumes of if onlys’. Sighs dissipated as cold smoke into the wind and fire of tomorrow.
Recently, an image uploaded by NASA Hubble’s Instagram page (picture included), inspired me a lot to write a few verses about Supernova, and the delectable idea of comparing these violently exploding stars to illuminaries who burn and fizzle out due to the incredibility of their astounding ingenuity only to borderline into collapsible madness, spurred my imagination to write a few humble verses on this analogy.
Hope you like it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.