Innocuously unconscious...

The morning light was not enough to enlighten her,
The day the elements of my dream died,
Wearing a dead shroud of indifference over their tattered bodies and crushed spirits,
Using their newly acquired air of individuality to stop the infection from spreading...

There were days she used to bleed for them,
There were days she made a new world of stories with her tears,
There were days she questioned their unity and separation,
Now those days have broken with the break of my dreams and wake of my lids...

The lovers, with their deeper lust and intense attachment,
Feared as their fatal attraction ceased into a pitch black void,
The companions, who bore the other half of the dead souls and beautiful bonds,
Watched as once merry monotony was now a far fetched memory,
The nurturers with their fusion of life, care and separation,
Now watch as their creation enter another world...

She watched from another dimension of the skies,
Mourned in her sleep,
As she woke her tears were bone dry,
Psyched by the heavenly icy cold cold lullabies...

They waited for time to turn just so that they could reach out to her,
They showed her sights, sounds and seasons from her childhood,
A couple of decades ago but long lost in altered perception,
Even tried moments of breaking her into the past that never was,,,

She now ceased to believe that they were living beings imbibed with emotion and ambition,
More so mere characters in her dreams,
Bold and beautiful as well as dark and grimy,
Mere puppets of her unconscious side of the coin,
Who watched as she died many deaths,
Who wilted away as she was reborn with numerous lives...      

Noir...

As her knight fades into the night,
A thousand questions begin to unfurl,
Dressed in deceit and debauchery,
Masked in the promises of love...

Sensuality was one with his blood,
Sowed his seeds like fierce arrows,
Arrows aimed at an innocent woman's heart,
In all her love and virginal faith...

As primitive as the Earth,
She wanted to sense the fertile fire within him,
Caressing the land which bore the soil of insolence,
She started her expedition to the heart of the motherland...

The motherland that thrived within its own ruins,
The Motherland where life began,
The Motherland that saw deep destruction,
The Motherland that bore cold, loveless children...

She dug deep within the Motherlands soul,
Only to be left wounded, empty and shattered,
Then she headed back,
She never took the dark road, wound within its own mysteries.. 

The drift...

For all the hermits in the world,
Do you whirl in peace or penury ?
While I seek to know if you exist,
Of each strand of your hair that unites to create your soulful existence,
Of your illicit pain...
You're all a part of my ilk when we're on the same path,
When your heart is idle in the monastery of your mind,
In an idyll painting,
For you can't be too obdurate while avoiding the drift...