MIDNIGHT BLUE

What makes you... you?  is that the carcass we abide our souls in Is it the mind that plays nasty and ruthless tricks Is it the heart that pounces blood in our veins What makes you...you? is a question I have failed in the fathom to comprehend  Is it the printed cellulose fiber the world has agreed to be accepted as currency Is it that charade act of kindness you term missionary Is it the zeal to rise up when there's no choice left...The failure you term as hope What makes you? consistent what makes you persistent When it's procrastination that you persevere at The feud of broken dreams and in the pond of jealousy and envy you seldom reflect optimism What makes you...you? when in order to survive you're ready to shoot Are you a patriot or that's the threshold of gullibility where your slogans don't excite you for mutiny Deep down you're weak and easy to be manipulated You're vulnerable to the idea you masquerade with passive aggression I know you shouted and...

 A solace of ambiguity and the betrayal that follows The cigarette you began with and that last drag....so void and hollow So dismal and dejected a thirst you swallow...A quench you hold to A closure that you haunt a path long gone and forgotten An ambush disguised as mutiny...A coup of structural dichotomy You were there and you saw it all...You rattled and tenderly you slinked I wonder what brought you here...The snake with the red mouth A nemesis I long witnessed a genesis of my burnt creation I knew it's you...Till the dismal vicinity, it has always been you That fallen golden leaf...Those arid winds...A wild tranquil chase and the starry night of brittle flames I'm ready I said...Isn't it the moment...The moment you await The vicious poison of affinity...The ordeal I beg The gloomy eyes...The scale of cosmic lines...Fangs stone cold The split tongue of emotions...Whisper the harmony of lost and deprived You said it'll rain...you said the cascade of monsoon will bur...

 Dear Moavi I see her on the ephemeral moments of evaporating droplets, It’s a struggle to hold or to let go... yet all I could ever do is to observe and comprehend. "The friendly dove" is shy and brave. "The friendly dove"  is naïve and capable to camouflage in the shades of masquerade. It’s been a long Moavi that I have written to you, hold you, or even look up to the fragments of you, radiating a spectrum of monochromes to be resonated with contrast and longingness. Our last conversation had me thinking….A monologue breathing on the 32 nd day. I wonder how your trip to Prague must have been, does it really reminds one of “The Castle” or it’s just another fairytale. Yes I know you could have been anywhere but my imagination had you settled over Charles Bridge, smoking an epilogue of cremated ambiguity. I’m glad that you had pulled me to a café terrace at night, under the canvas over the lights. I had always dreamt of this place, the progression panorama as it...