Poetry

The Transcendental Myriam Fares

Words resonating in my hollow vessel.

Beyond this lake of superficiality,

there lies an island of salvation.

Tears emanate from a divine waterhole.

At the top of the highest peak,

Her voice still runs unhindered.

 

Fallen brethren having fallen,

a nightingale is born to make it rain once again.

Transcending between human and God,

Her voice carries every sob since its inception.

Emotionless faces, living for a glimpse of her,

settle for an eternity of healing in her verses.

Heavens have blessed enough,

for the goddess continues to heal all those wounded.

Days, months, years remaining silent,

Elise takes a stroll on the ghastly street.

Now, 1 year old, my cousin sister

Lay snoring in her bed,

Unbeknownst of the world surrounding her.

 

The nights turn darker day by day,

Yet, certain stars continue to guide us.

 

                                                                                ~ Gautham Pradeep

                                                                                         Thalassery, India

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