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Beyond Transcendental Dialectics



Beyond Transcendental Dialectics


Your Wings Would I Paint Pink

Your Wings Would I Paint Pink

2 mins

Transcending through spaces and time,

Somewhere between

Dining pines to wines,

Sanitizing in farms to pots,

“Sinful” seclusions to proud bleeding,

Burkhas to skirts,

Wiping utensils to holding pencils.

A voice far off beneath the blue curtains hear-

Amidst the soft woods,

Congruent to

The longing of pigeons to rush to their shelters at dusk,

The longing of orchids to drink the elixir of water,

The longing of peacock to mesmerise the lady.

Fiercely warm stands my desire,

To cherish you in my arms,

To paint your canvas in my life,

To make you sail in the bubbly brooks of my heart!

My life is the size of a beautiful crayon box,

And I would take every color to paint you.

Yellow would I pour first-

Yellow represents strength;

For my little lass needs to become a hero,

A hero for herself!

Crimson would be next to sprinkle-

The color of companionship;

My lovely lady, be a companion to every other soul you meet.

Magenta colored would be your dress;

A symbol of responsibility,

For being a woman,

Would make you-

A daughter,

A sister,

A teacher,

A wife,

A mother.

Pumpkin pie, ready for them?

Your tresses would I adorn in gold-

Let them flow in open air;

Air of blissful breezes,

Air of happy hills,

Or may be the air of devouring deer,

For golden represents flexibility.

Then would I begin with subtle decorations-

The crystals and jewels;

Gently put with precise tools,

My miniature of love would be ready then,

Ready for the flight,

To this world of sorcery!

These dreams I visit,

Sitting in these solitary fires.

Logs set ablaze in these foggy bays;

The bays of my imagination,

Where I fabricate your sailing saga!

Oh! The years would roll

And one day her feet would fit in my sole.

No, she would not;

I know she would not,

Trash me to the old age home,

Or engulf the silver we possess.

No, she wouldn’t wait for me to die. But

As I age, she would ferry me HIGH!

When I open my casket and see the rugged clothes;

A bundle would she buy and adorn there.

When the moon would make me feel flawed,

She would embrace each of them in her canopy.

When I play dead in the dark days,

She would bring millions of fireflies to light up my world.

When I lay pale and pungent in bed,

Embracing my last breaths,

She would kiss my unkissed forehead,

Cuddle the undried eyes,

And warm my cold soul with her vibrations of divinity and serenity.

When my bones become the forgotten fossils of a dead desert,

Her heart would still shower me with love forever and beyond!

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