She, of calibre, was a mystique lighthouse.
Illuminating our tenebrous world for lost souls to find direction.
She was an aphotic plant, blooming in the absence of light.
Of being, she was utterly philosophical,
But her psyche's death could never be averted.
No one could foresee her loved ones evoking an apocalypse of her very soul.
Now, I can never confer solace to her broken heart.
My smile fails to turn her frown upside-down.
The possibility of her sunken cheeks never again converting shape perseveres,
For she illuminated the world so much all that remains within her is darkness.
They all are giving up on her, but when I look into her eyes I see ethereal light battling demons.
To me, her heart's transparency is detected.
She will once again become a waterlily with such profound beauty it is bizarre to even those who claim to have seen angels,
For she is nature's finest art piece.
YOU ARE READING
Soulful Noises
PoetryIt is pen on paper. I breathe in experience and breathe out poetry, so get ready to have your heart touched by my soulful noises. Most of the pictures in the book are photographed by me. Please show support/interest by voting or commenting.?
