I could couch my noetic thoughts
To sky
As it can only hold the agony of a passerby,
Not a typical longing
But the stars are aware of it,
They’re still around the moon
With lost wit.
Summers’ moon, winters’ noon
Have My refugee soul;
Forced to leave the body to achieve its goal.
Embracing his thoughts,
Wishing for something which was never wrought,
Would commit me to paper,
Writing in the medial of a skyscraper
Just to escape from a neighbour.
No, no the longing didn’t die
I am stuck in this phase, can’t hie,
His intense eyes
Carrying the incomplete poetries,
My PARKER is still lying
As a showpiece,
Will these erratics ever make sense?
They are irresistibly dense!
Him, not knowing that I exist
Is her universe,
Black Hole- he is,
I touched the supernova with bare fingers;
The brightest death
Will make the world ablaze
I wish someone would be there
But not just to forget the haze!