Mould

From my fingers pours a space,

Subduing fears and erasing their trace;

The soundless affairs being dispersed

By nothingness in a tone having immersed,

…while pouring this space wider and deeper

To birth the one that shall be her keeper!

 

A space of all colour, yet not one alive

A space… where impossible started to thrive.

A space of a quiet so fond,

of a need parenting an alertness in bond

Between the ripples that are seen

and the peace residing in Akansha’s gene…

 

She takes the love of a man, wiser than all

A man whose ambition she needed not haul;

and the voice of another, with depth in his tone

potency of a spirit bravely colored and grown

…into the adoration of the third

taking apart the shyness of his word;

 

Sprinkles the body of a fair haired man,

with the touch vibrating her heart’s plan

…loosing her mind in the benevolence

begeting dulcet alleviance and abundance!

So, I take one last look…

To place a kiss on the heart I shall hook;

for he does not know, just yet…

who this woman is, for he has not met

not even her eyes,not who she is

he does not know that she is his.

 

He does not know he’s touched her heart

He does not know, for they’re never apart.

he does not know, he’s taking shape,

For her to live in the world she wants to escape.

He does not know, so many things,

For the space she’s created is pulling his strings.

He does not know, but he will soon

As all falls into place, all’s opportune.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s