The Song of Strom
There's this little fragile
Betwixt the escort.
Trying to understand
Their psyche,
Their interest.
Are they really the armours
Or the aviary?
And will the dust devil arrive,
Rising from our own silhouette,
Compressing the cage of ribs
With the bludgeon?
Illusion of something erroneous,
Or may be some nave.
Perfect guard,
Guarding the heart,
The cascade of truth
For the so called panoply,
Squeezing the heart out.
Every piece of the jigsaw heart,
Turning out into butterflies
Dancing the dance of freedom.
Breath breath breath,
Screamed the chambers,
Shouts the guard.
Rushing the red ink
To the fragile little heart,
Pumps & paint the canvas,
Red with pure air.
They said it
to be the cage of protection,
And still the heart suffocated
Bearing all the badger in love.
So the kernel continued singing
The song of strom..
(12th April, 2023)
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