A high-value person choose to walk away from anything not meant for them—with their head held high, a spark in their eyes, and an aura that feels unfathomably divine.
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Love and Rage
When roses are met with no praises, Butterflies with strings, Beauty with melancholy— Who grieves? The thunders you hear are nature’s wrath, Rains pour down as she holds her tears. Her anger comes with the roar of lightning— Nature grieves today, For the delicate heart is hurt. The happy tales she recited Lead to paths unknown. With no peak to this mountain, The wanderer pauses, Collects courage, and descends Empty-handed. The visions, dreams, and coincidences Were hoax, not signs. The wanderer returns to things That effortlessly align With her values and aspirations— To see what the future really holds. This time, No trust in delusional admirations. So even if there’s a homecoming, The wanderer is lost forever. Where is the shelter? Where is the home? For someone who finds home In people Remains unsheltered. Where does the wanderer go When love and rage together grow?
So Pretty, It Hurts.
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If silence speaks, then let my voice immerse in the ocean of silence, forever. If fire is the way towards you, then let my heart burn until it reaches the threshold of yours. If days pass, and we grow old, let my coffin still feel the touch of your presence. If the genesis of fragrance is you, let me be the Eve, and let the garden of heaven be our home. The beauty you behold ruptures the rhythm of my amygdala. O dear, yet in my heart you form strata of emotions—layer upon layer. They say love brings peace, but you bring commotion. As electrons revolve around the proton seeking stability, my heart revolves around you seeking your warmth. The immense beauty you hold could bring down the Great Wall of China and my existence, could melt polar glaciers and my heart. It’s the beauty that brings pain— the beauty that hurts. You are so pretty, so achingly pretty, that it hurts.
Shh! No Words, Just Signs!
Notice or lose it, It’s there — in blushes, gazes, and subtle cues. Ever wondered Why they stick around like glue? Like electrons revolving around a proton, Their gaze freezes on you, Even when you’re gone. It’s there, In a hope to be observed, To be respected the way they deserve. It’s there, In smiles, in a bend, in gestures. You know it’s there When their heartbeat ruptures At your presence. They make you feel like an interstellar, artistic beauty — Almost descended from heaven. If they have ten, They still wish to give you eleven. When so much is going on inside, The heart works an extra shift, The brain drops somewhere, And eyes wander — Yet the mouth remains shut. So let them ponder, To wonder what’s going on here. Think… think… and think, You’ll get it. When words fall silent, Actions take the stage. Shh… No words, just signs — You just have to engage!