And are we all enough,
To make up for all the beauty,
Of us,
Of everything.
The artist seeks,
The muse reciprocates.
The artist is on a wayward journey,
Of fascination, and of fantasy,
The muse simply has to be.
Something that stirs, the artist seeks,
The lying mass underneath
And the muse, simply by means of being,
Bestows upon the artist,
That quality, that framework,
That welcome respite,
That the artist seeks.
And thus, by doing none other than being,
The muse reciprocates.
Thinking about you,
Talking to you,
Being in your presence,
Soaking in your aura,
Gives me a respite
From all the madness,
From all the frenzy.
And I’m thankful for the delightful bit of nonsense crap
That we shared together;
The unspoken words rest,
Knowing that they’d seldom come out.
I fantasise about getting to know you, everyday —
Your skin glistens as I seek to discover the unbound pleasures of you,
Of the thought of you
Tremors course through your body as I make my way to the pot of gold,
Shimmery and dazzling
Rivulets appear in places where one would want to find them,
Gleaming in all their glory.
I find my way through the lush meadows, lusher than ever,
Heading over uncharted terrain, marking my territory
With romance, and with poetry;
Neverfound lands, newfound sensations
Sensations of adventure, and sensations of transcendence,
Taking in everything, taking in you.
I drink from the abundant wells, I lap it up all up
I swoon, I coddle
I give all I can give, and some more
For I’m a seeker, and I seek to know you
I’m a lover, and I yearn to love you
And I dream about making endless passion with you.
Feverish energy
Unbounded urges
All of life’s passion —
The raucousness of youth
The restlessness of hormones
The mind in daze
The heart on fire
The almost-touches, the almost-grazes
A glorious pot of burning gold
Bursting to swathe you, all over
In gold, in silver
In silver, and in gold;
Swimming in the glory
Never felt so good.
You’ve got your dreams and your zeals,
Your adorations and infatuations,
And things you’ve got to do,
Just for their sake;
But is that all you crave,
Is that all you want –
Do you not put your heart out on the line,
And perhaps enjoy a little bit of mellow,
A little bit of tenderness,
In the form of a human
Do you not crave a shared joy,
Or perhaps a fulfilling contentment,
In the arms of a lover
Do you not, for once, look in front of you,
And think about the possibilities,
Of what could be –
Or is it just the things you’ve got to do,
Just for their own sake.
They were miles apart, her and him
He kept her going,
And him, she;
They were the very fabric of each other’s existence.
He asked—she was waiting,
The comfort extended beyond the texts
Living for the moment,
That’s all they hoped for.
I know I shouldn’t be thinking of you. But yet I am. Why am I in such a daze? How are you doing? What have you been up to? How’s life? Meet anyone interesting? Are you able to get by? Do you not miss those endless arguments? Tell me. Tell me everything. I want to know it all. I’m sorry I put you through hell. Is this the end of it all? Do we meet no more more? Are our lives no longer entwined? Was it not meant to be? Was it all for nought? Was the bond we shared all a lie? Do you not miss me?