Wednesday, April 02, 2008
the sorcerer
Silence biding itself
To self-destruct,
Your apparition speaks to me
Of wisdom known beyond
What the zealous eyes can see.
In this darkened room where
You never treaded with fancy feet,
The fireflies come alive,
Sparkling in grotesque corners
Of distant longing
And Placid Naivete.
Potent smile and starry eyes assert
Even in surreal imaginings,
Never telling when the potion
Spoils its powers
Nor when nuances
Cease to fake the gray.
Farther away,
Cast into a realm
That is your home, my home
The charmer lays in quiescence
Among books, roses
And ardent mobile phone.
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