The sun, the moon, the stars,
The grass, the tides, the rain,
The spring's bloom, the fall's rustling leaves,
The dove's soft coo, the parrot's joyful squawk,
The blackness, the whiteness.
The rainbows, the saints.
The twists and turns of life, the peaks and valleys,
The moments of glory, the moments of pain.
****** whispered, outside the winds obey, within me the storms ignite,
My parents, pillars strong and true.
My night angel whispered truth in the night,
"You're born to breathe, born to be,
Born to breathe."

Have you ever pondered?
You're ageing day by day,
Each day, you're no spring chicken, fading away.
Your skin will turn wrinkled and crinkled with time,
Your intellect may dwindle, your thoughts less sublime.
Your framework will weaken, your body less grand,
Your grey hairs will shadow your youthful stand.
Your eyes will no longer sparkle and glint,
Youthful vigour will slowly wane,
Make the most of life's fleeting reign,
In the youth's brief bloom, make every moment divine.

The flair of positivity,
akin to a firefly carries ,
it's enchanted aura of possibility
it twinkles,
when the sun veils itself  behind,
swaying oak leaves in a bleary forest,
of uncertainty and doubt.
This positive outlook firmly
grasps our hands,
guiding us to the desired,
destination by enlightening,
the paths and hedges of life's maze,
analogous to a lighting bug,
gracefully navigating through,
the flickering signals,
of hope and faith.

She's nothing but a survivor of the greys,
Yet her fainted palms reassured gold.

Peel me like an orange, layer by layer.
Slurp me like iced tea with boba's gentle tap,
Sniff my skin like roses in the morning dew.
Consume me like ripe mangoes and olives, a blissful thrill,
Heal me like a whispered promise, a gentle, loving pill.

The type of red that runs,
through your mind,
defines your inheritance.

Sun curtained the
moon, with thoughts
of you, a grave of gold,
built in air.
The star is buried.
You're here within,
a frame of bones.
Love once,
squealled here.
Now silence,
kingdoms. ♡

Milk and mustard flowing
freely from her *******,
A sign of summer's
sensual ripeness.
Nectar spills, seeping into
the polka dots, of her
brasserie.

Whenever you inject something foreign into nature,
It pushes back, a force both fierce and grand,
Perhaps a puke from the mouth
rejecting what's abhorred,
Restoring equilibrium,
and demanding a gentle hand.

In gentle hues, a day unfolds,
With a mask of rice with honey
on the face,
(gram flour with shower gel),
A 2km walk (heart and
soul at stake).
Beans, nuts, and porridge,
A thought of love,
An oat of barley,
A dose of rosy pills,
A gentle smile,
The folk of fairies,
Slurping happiness,
Savouring sorrow,
The story of resilience,
of a girl.

Like flowers, I wilt; like them, I bloom.
The river in me becomes a lake, during midnight,
Like untouched snow, under moonlight.
There are many, unexplored, parts
of my identity,
yet to be laid bare.

She unclothes herself,
As summer's fiery
passion stirs her fingers,
Finding joy
In bare truths.

You'll breathe smoothly until the
cells in your stomach,
make the most of what you ingest,
extracting life from
god's blessing.

As Earth defies gravity's gentle might,
Steadfast in celestial dance, serene and bright.
With precision, it holds its sacred place,
A cosmic balance of elegance and space.
You too, in suffering's darkest night,
Hold yourself with equal might.

The diffusion of honeyed, flavored warm vapors,
in the kitchen, broth on the stove, us licking fingers,
to ensure all the ground spices could celebrate their rebirth
in a plain white plate, those fish fillets, heated to perfection.

A tiny cactus breathing in the balcony,
mother's kisses, a father's pat, and sister's empathy.

Isn't this a glimpse of what home feels like?

The word "poor" seethes
with scorn,
Yet they give off warmth,
better than silver spoons.