Her eyes look like unheard stories Fossilized aura of some glories She stands as sun, the central creature Around her, revolve the genres of literature Ink inhales her as stimulus, alike oxygen from the tree She is a living tale, breathing in the air of poetry She seems myth from far, but when she comes close Stereotype's broken when translate her in prose Centuries have been consumed, many more ahead Conspiracies had been fumed, to bring it to an end She is sung with words by men, and by stars with the glitter HEARD MELODIES ARE SWEET, AND THOSE UNHEARD ARE SWEETER A SHEHARAYZAAD resides, deep in her eyes With every blink of lash, another mystery flies PATIENCE IS POWER, so spare another hour Be her reader, be a listener and let your suspense hover For suspense is like IGNORANCE, YOU TOUCH AND BLOOM is GONE Then eternally alone, you'd be, the fact is rather known
ALLUSIONS credit to the rightful source. 》》I tried to make the allusions bold by capitalising them.
1) #SHEHARAYZAAD : Scheherazade (/ʃəˌhɛrəˈzɑːd, -də/) is a major female character and the storyteller in the frame narrative of the Middle Eastern collection of tales known as the One Thousand and One Nights.
Honey of my beehive was exuding so steadily that couldn't have kept pace with my volatility . Dolorifuge made me overwhelmed and emotions used to make me lost in the lap of garboil sometimes. But " " taught me , brought abeyance in my arms and kept feeling gigil . They saw the metamorphosis in my reflective eyes so closely that how my trepidation made a revolution boldly overcoming all the fears I had.
It isn't true that always love is responsible behind a broken heart of a poet , what if the one is himself a crapehanger , the one who always obtrudes the new beginnings and foists the weight of plights on the delicate shoulders instead of living the freedom of happiness , enduring pain beautifully and pouringthe words with courtesy.
Life has always treated my orenda so benevolently And it's eutony has been showering rose petals on my delicate flaws and being " "of this journey, I kept on appreciating many ups and downs those feets of mine endured .
I appreciated the opia of Emptiness which tried to find itself in the cornea but I told the desolation waving my hand that dadirri has now interdigitated as I myself lifted my little finger to Embellish the abundance by of poetries witnessed under the shadow of eyelashes .