Saturday, 2 March 2013


I essayed to call into being a song
I sighed for thoughts which would belong
But words could not be uttered by my tongue
Calling forth a blow to my spirit as I remained headstrong

I inquired into matters of routine
I tasted its fruit but it was saline
Then reached for branches of innovation but they appeared pristine
Turned to the garden of romance but it failed to keep me keen

A whim dubbed me beneath the legs of Adam and Eve
Towards their delusion of the divinity and their grief
I cast a glance at the contemplation on the divine and one's belief
Spared an inch of time for things a bit impossible to conceive

My mind appeared to be delighted by this subject
As far as my tongue was concerned a poetic word was no more a reject
A spring inside me started to flow, started to eject
Verses of the celestial, written out of admiration and respect

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