• emeray 6w


    When the sun sets
    And the lilies would no longer sway
    In sync with the wind
    As it blows across
    Treading gently on their fluffy petals
    When the earth opens up
    In all weariness and there is drought
    As the monsoons won't come
    And the roses that poke at my louvers
    No longer bloom and are reduced to miniatures
    When my eyes are laced with dark circles
    And the kettle keeps on whistling
    As no one is listening
    And sadness looms all over
    Like an ominous overcast
    That won't budge with so much jostling
    Or listen when I try pleading
    As it can't hear me
    It won't ,as my voice have gone underneath
    Where no one can find it
    Even the one closest has gone amiss
    As the voice that comes out is all but a facade
    The original is battered and beaten up
    It can no longer face the world
    It seems all hope is lost
    And a deep dive to obscurity has begun
    But there is always one ready to listen
    To the cranky excuse of a voice
    The dying excuse of a soul
    One that is able to rescue the miniature roses
    So they become the magnificent lovelies
    Ever sprouting at the sides of the porch
    He's able to cast away the deathly thorns
    Forever choking up that powerful voice
    Inherent in us
    His love forever abides with us
    We can be seen as fools
    But we are never really one
    For we have got God
    Whose words ,
    Eternally hold true .