In the deep blues,
of my heart’s cinemas.
I see your merry laugh.
Garlanding, your shrine.
Your dear face,
my life’s dear grace.

Amidst the grey crowd,
of the children of our dear God.
I seek your sweet-smelling strands,
Slipping from your white silver dress.

I hold your warm cherry hands, and
let my heart do a little dance.
I ask your angels for a chance, and
let my lips slip into a little trance.

To leave the edge of comfort,
Beneath your shrine of gold.
To lock the ends of a promise,
Behind your shrine of gold.

I must rip the fabric of light,
With the overwhelming might,
of your emptiness in sight.

And here I leave your light,
For a forever flying flight.
While the creases remains,
From a knot untied.


- Aadil Varsh