the burning orchid

I know my breaths have their own wee cause
The veins flamer once the blood stops oozing in them
I know my head won’t spin till it’s not the end
The thought would not excuse the words to be not

Traveled across the valley through the trains
Wishing no stain was left to the place
The foot marks were dissolving in its own evolution
The breaths dissolving in the cold heat of the heart,

Lurching in to a place where I was know to the unknown
Looking as if it was full of familiar ruse, let it unfold
But the parched journey to the ruse of brut truth
Found the valley full of the sacrifice and untold truth of the demise

Blooming flowers have their own colors to flaunt
But the reek just choose to elude them and run off
And the orchid which none of their own lost is parched
Feeling the fragrance but where and how, gazing to void

The flow of coil over them though making it pale
But the swing taking the aroma of the bud
The unblemished sun leaves nothing but the vehement colour
The dews make it as pious as it is so naïve

Running from it’s own evolution to its own unsaid demise
These shrubbery reside all, for a smile receptive yet deceptive of the dew
For those twinkling eyes, those sparking colours, those nectar suckers
But yet never complain when they look at the petals living them one by one

The moments that shape the life where all alike as if not
The stranger came not with a dagger but leave the acquaintance
Walking with the heard voice in to the darkness was wise
But the prudence of a strange unworldly words were quite deafening

The self denials of the truth lead to the demise
Looking at the fallen leaves with all pale in colour they never smile
The eyes which hover and hover for the petals would never shiver
The drying aroma of the fresh air from the nectar mesmerizes

Yet stand hoping these would not change and once again come over
Living not as if smitten but only with the truth to tell
The burning lure of the flora shall come to one
Untold unfolded and though absent, in cruel palms it shall be free


The fragrance is still their and choose not fade off
Flow of fresh air though scanty slaps the gape too hard
The fell of which is not new too old and pleasant but a bit wee
Fighting the stand to defy the clout it choose to rest alone

The fire in itself would fuel the life and yet chained to it
curls not unwinding themselves but hurting themselves to smile
The dawn would flutter though cramped in itself from the last
Gazing to the first as if it’s not varying though it has indeed