Beneath the veil of eventide's ballet,
Murmurs pirouette, in secrets relay,
Friday's serenade, in amber array.

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An Ode To Midnight

Above the still leaves, pore's halcyon heaves,
The veiled pace by the queer midnight's ring;
With a circled gleaming block, the sky weaves,
Upright glam emeralds near it, so all can softly sing;
Along the lyrics by zephyrs, forging to repose,
A lonesome rover to prolong the heart's hues,
To dwell in quietude cart, a vow not to depart;
So long the piece-hand ticks, with a charm to muse,
On bewitch'd graphs, the mystical ink disclose,
'Tis a revered hour for twelfth tale to compose;
For time's a scarecrow, inert to make fervor apart.

Neath an abyss, a mellotron's arcana sounds,
The wary remiss in wraith by midnight waltz;
On refrain, reveries clad as troupes, in rounds,
For the alchemy, I'm stuck in sempiternal schmaltz;
With a nocturnal art, aside the play of foliage,
The ashen bubble in ether, by grace shimmers,
Taking the heart to a realm, sublimity widens;
Into an esoteric hovel, that befuddles using courage,
As midnights bid uncaged mind that glimmers,
A cryptic stick guiding me, ravaging whimpers;
Forming hive of chances, by which utopia brightens.— % &In a beguil'd book, an euphoric tale's penned,
Midnight's an eunoia, everyone cannot grasp;
As 'tis a songbird, each ditty led me to attend,
Philocaly sessions, inspiring sav'd memoirs to clasp;
Over the summit, the pilgrimage airs ramble,
The iridescent clouds, by options to penetrate,
Soul's utterance before midnight takes insight;
To the lock'd doors of heart, noisy hushes scramble,
For ensnaring revival pills jovially to subjugate,
Midnight's gift, enticed oases which illuminate;
My mind's gratitude to a numinous album in delight.— % &

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Yearning for the stars,
Yearning for love that’s ours,
Yet we wander through the night,
Yearning for dawn’s light.

Yonder, dreams take flight,
Yet fears hold us tight,
Yearning for freedom’s song,
Yearning to right the wrong.

Yet in every heart's beat,
Yearning for a love complete,
Yearning for the endless sky,
Yearning for wings to fly.

Yielding to hope’s embrace,
Yearning for a sacred place,
Yet in the darkest hour,
Yearning for inner power.

Yearning for peace to reign,
Yearning for the end of pain,
Yet through it all, we find,
Yearning unites humankind.

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the shadows loom,
A weight upon
my heart's own room,
Each breath a struggle,
burdens heap,
In darkest nights,
where tears may weep.

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Thou Art Thy Guardian, Boy!

Look toward the fifteen, delicate ego, when thou were
Solitary, a year ago. Losing thy best companion, being
Miserable without communion, listening to others' so-mockery
With fragile feathers on thy back, damag'd by haters' jerk fate
Forced to became a sober, away from "true yourself", changing
Thyself for loons' sake. Being weirdo and doltish, is what they say,
Was that true? To make thou down? Or to speak fax? Or cause of envy?
The answers now leftovers on the backseat in the quietude
Amidst the moonlight, with gazing, sparkling stars, for thou
Couldn't find a single penny to get cues, why everybody despised thou?
From getting scoffs for inferior clothes, shoes, face, the dreadful past,
It will remain everlast, were thou had nobody? Or nobody had thou?
Parents refer to the Almighty, yet not everybody feel the
Sovereignty, some might be awkward, lovely and thence stingy,
Howbeit, who said parents refer omniscient for a kid,
Ne'er assisted, faced prejudice, scoffs by society, ne'er trusted,
Nor had supported, motivated, encouraged, to go ahead.— % &Through times, teachers are next Gods. What if they came dressed as
A nightmare, haunting little kids? As everybody ain't the same.
Since humans meant fickle, aren't some rude? Some kind?
Some upright? Some ethical? Some unethical? Some diligent?
Some couch potatoes? Some tortured? Some assisted? Some valued?
Some respected? The folks might not accept, it doth meant to be
The one having inner glaze stands out to be the greatest and foremost.
They said, "Home Is Where Wealth Is", I calmly replied,
"Home Is Where The True Soul Is", for life ain't evermore,
Today I ain't affluent, good enough, elegant, but I doth contain
I can be, I might be, I shall be, I will be, one day coming up with glee.
Resonant to life, each phase woven with a thin paper in slide, the
Utmost collection of poetry, with resonance to the lighted dark past,
Written to peeps, I've had boon relation with, now they ain't with
Me, yet I see, I will reach the righteous angels in the locked chest
Ahead, enchanted with a marvelous spark, blazed by icy fire.
With bangings, "Am I enough? Am I doing well? Why did they say that?"
To lurkings, "I am enough. I am doing well. Their words don't matter."— % &I perceive my soul through a gaze, through a mole, might be my insecurity,
Yet cans't cease me from achieving prosperity, with my heart's glow.
At the dreadful maze in the past, I didn't recognize, who I am,
A boy? Or A Girl? Attracted toward silly things doing whatever
Seeming doing-so. No one hinting, it ain't right, thou art born male,
To tear up gales, little did my heart knew, it'd create different nicknames
Not good ones. To hurt me by gender gaslighting words.
With the passage of time, every chapter awfully written, I turned
The Author, I write, I pen. I handle my deeds, I handle my enemies.
Moved on, with slams of closure, and acceptance, I am a human,
Dressed as a man, I see I once what I did. The girly things ain't alive.
I buried them, now they deprive. "They still call you what you were"
I don't care, I find mere, in myself with cheer, I am a man, without fear.
Amid the glowing hours, I find my new companies, as intimates,
Maybe three, many came, many left, without shame, they cleft.
"Close friends to all" is "Real to none", in the hazy sun, the audacity
Won't burn. For they are now gone, I have found way back to home.— % &"Value" is for everyone, whether young ones, or old ones, if there's
Influence with toxicity, for getting affluence, thou might choose
Simplicity, letting them go, without being their awful secretive foe.
With the closed chapter of fifteen, turning sixteen, my boy, thou
Did amazing. Thou deserve to be loved, respected. Thou stayed
With thyself with resilience, fighting in the dark, finding thy own ways,
To shining with a spark, thou ignored "who says what", minding
Thy sways, thou found thyself, with profound experience.
Along the boat of perseverance, patience, I wish thou greatness,
To accomplish whatever you wish for, to listen to thyself, not
Being afraid of asking for help, standing up for thyself, not letting
Anyone put you down, with head held high, keep shining with
A bright smile, diminishing fright with rose miles.



Adieu.
Take care.
I love thou so much.— % &

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In the gaze of the lens, worlds whisper,
Echoes of time in each frame shimmer,
A dance of light, where dreams glimmer.

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Haiku (With The Pale Moonlight)

With the pale moonlight,
On feathers the repose flies,
By winds, mild plight.

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In the silence of night,
I find solace in my bed,
where dreams whisper tales of wonder,
until sleep gently claims me.

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And I Chose Myself

Across a cascade, shadows of deceit dance,
By tunes of chalant grief, trusts' dyes fade
Facing end in amour, left scars to a trance,
Tinting thy sham oaths, with a vivid shade.

Beyond each chorus, mended verse extend,
Wrecks for woe theme, the rhythm foretell
Beside thy thrown debris, for me, I ascend,
Unto harmony, for heart's lyrics to compel.

Circa an orchestra, a beguile flow in tones,
Amid lively decays, flashbacks as in a show
Every beat unveils dread, hurled by stones,
Searing memoirs, forging ahead along glow.

During the aurora, when moon's cue rises,
The delicate heart snubs, aware of thy ploy
Onto a discern, finding me, the mind sighs,
Graving thy play, claiming my spirit for joy.

Exiting a derelict abode, mementos behind,
A cadence to chaotic affair, softly had sung
By the bridge in symphony, our paths lined,
For panacea, 'twas a key to be grimly hung.

Forth to the dawn, dusk's adieu in the back,
The severed tie wraps, once set off by thyself
In the sunrise quietude, I chose varied track,
Cause with farewells to thee, I chose myself.

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There My Heart Has Etched

When tinted flames unfolded thy vicious love,
My cradled sand couldn't suff, as thou top the trove,
For thou art my revered orchid, I being a ragwort,
With thy snubbed treason, having utmost clout,
Thou art the one, my heart cans't live without.

In volcano's rage at thy disputes that ponder,
Amid vile trails, why the mind feels thou, I wonder,
For thou art an august gale, I being a fragile leaf,
Over thy debris, aware of our noxious about,
Thou art the one, my heart cans't live without.

On the placid canvas, the folklore we painted,
'Twixt thy abysmal crystals, by disdain, thus fainted,
For thou art a remote hill, I being a sunken valley,
Sinking my aura, yet by ears to thy livid shout,
Thou art the one, my heart cans't live without.

By a mystical ladder, climbing to thy fortress,
Below insecurity, my schmaltz for thee transgress,
For thou art a prime ether, I being a dismal mist,
Despite thy cold traits, hoping amour to sprout,
Thou art the one, my heart cans't live without.— % &Into a dark cave where echoes of qualms arise,
Thy flaws revise dubiety, through a flint in disguise,
For thou art witty Beatrice, I being firm Benedick,
From thy pale discords, to grasping no doubt,
Thou art the one, my heart cans't live without.

Beneath a dull fountain, there lies a stronghold,
A tale formed, with tragic end, as modernly 'tis told,
For thou art a thorned rose, I being a frantic bee,
Via an eye to hurt, I chose my voice to a route,
Thou are the one, my heart cans't live without.— % &

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