With Syncophony mediating under the tranquil of astute impressions,
And the rhythmic movement of channelised synergy functions,
Do unlettered words come pouring out from altitudes of ambrosia,
And the air rushes under my skin to let me rise to the ulterior of the skylines.
Lights fade from the silhouettes of sanctity,
Blending in hues of hibiscus, violet and crimson to longevity,
Transformations arise from my inner voice to the sacrilege of beliefs,
With strides of uncanny silences under the sea of coral reefs.
With bottled emotions escaping through the canvas of blemished nuisances,
And tattered sun-rays sky dancing to the lullabies of unscripted words,
I open my eyes to a world with her.
As a whole new dimension opens,
like a vertex to swallow me into blissful delirium,
It is tough to explain it without sounding unsound.
As the night-stars loom through sinewed patterns of crimson,
I see a facade of undying virtues of bliss and personified calmness,
With the curvature of my lips moving in a rotatory stride,
From despair to an enkindling side.
Coming closer and closer,
Till our breaths match the same strumming pattern of crests and troughs,
As the stillness around the dense air succumbs to poignant volatilities of fireworks that explode,
I see her as figments of imperfect impressions that arm me with one emotion; Sweet Disposition.
As the backdrop complains of un-deserving credit,
I, for a moment eclipse my notions of ethereal beauty to tiny speckles of diminished furore,
And place my hand on her back as I feel the alighting of a light feather caressing the thresholds of the quietude of my shoulder.
Gaping through the tumultuous attraction of her beautifully carved lashes,
Gazing into her dilated pupils with unwitting scrutiny of finding faint hearted-ness,
Galloping through shallow melancholy,
There is clouded anonymity.
And as the umber delights of the temporal variations in the rhythmic wind spread,
Her hair poignantly place themselves on the luscious tint of her sweet nose so red,
With undetectable hand movement,
as I curl her lustrous hair back to the confines of her ear,
I whisper something so as to sear.
As the straddled moonlight trace out the crevices of subtle melodies,
And the shooting stars voice out concerns of undervaluing their grace,
Do we continue our dance of suave tinted oneness into lights of glee.
Me and Her, Her and Me.