The Magician’s Fool

Among all things seen and unseen,
Soft sighs burning each moonlit midnight in vintage agony.
Nothing in this world can be truly defined.
Then why must thee not let thine spirit, mingle with mine?
As the raindrops drench my skin and the warmth of the summer sun seeps in to my brown skin,
I wander towards the south, whilst meandering thoughts fill my ears with the onset of sin.
Must thou be a delightful torment to me?
Weaving dreams under the stars, making me yearn for thee!
I fail to understand how art thou so magical, so divine,
A kiss from thee, quenches these parched lips of mine.
Deep blue eyes that speak the truth,
I fear not, to grow old with thee in youth.
Some stitch words on strings; others merely offer riddled hints.
Some paint it in ink and the others with colours and prints.
Time is fleeting,
Are you listening?
Like a flower growing in the wild,
Sprinkling rainbows made from the rain and sun,
I seek thee not just to be the mother of your child.
For there is hope for the fool, remedy for the wise, or there is none.
A silent chase, a looming war, a hunter charging towards its prey,
Naked skin entangled in a passionate dance, while the wind chuckles in the milky way.
Amidst all speech heard and unheard,
That which burns the night in vintage agony;
Rhapsodizing a rhythm unknown, nimble fingers upon the heart’s strings,
Words that entice the silent bard and hypnotizes when he sings!
They resonate within me as I fly in enchanting melancholy.
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