A natural spirit

A natural spirit
CALM and COMPOSED

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

CATCHING THE MOONLIGHT WITH YOU............



THE MOON IS MELTING IN YOU.

I try to hold it with curiosity, with many blinks on my eyes,

It’s sparkling to my sight, making shadows on my nose tip, a real disguise,

Near to my mouth though, I try, can not but, drink the reflect,

It shows no body, its soul as if doesn’t need one, truly intellect,

It casts self, harmlessly on anything comes within the path,

The lost soul of the mighty white has possessed you, and now,

Me, I, think to steal it from you, or take it from you, shall I?

Borrow it, from you?


Whisper comes, sings to me, you are the smith who melts,

The white ore, from the blue,

The moon is melting in you.


Its cold, at some turns, it’s warmer at some, how?

A melting ore, I surprise, should be? Can not be a snow.

A center of the rose line, would not make me smoke,

At this time of time, the second, the minute, the hour sword,

Could certainly not choke!!!

Is it you, that cooling down the molten, but I have nothing,

To say, that I have seen or been to place like Bolton,

Why I am shivering, why my tooth are fighting with a song,

Why am I rubbing my future lines to burn the coming wrong,

Oooohhhhhh!!!!!!!!


Whisper comes, sings to me, you are the smith who melts,

The white ore, from the blue,

The moon is melting in you.


You shine; you make it fake, just similar to the real shining ore,

Still at this place, I swore; where, I will lie never anymore,

The real, takes millions of tic-tac, stated earlier I, too profound,

Greed, I would ever have of them, if they gave rhythmic sound,

Making millions of paper cut with them, giving happiness around,

With yours, I would have gone in depth of alchemy,

Conversion made, by me, of your fake to physical blasphemy,

Wandering in to the dreamland, just like the book of Paulo,

Making a stretch of Viennese waltz, just on the tune of your Aulo,


Whisper comes, sings to me, you are the smith who melts,

The white ore, from the blue,

The moon is melting in you.


I push my ears, and exhaling inside, making the zero thought,

Into a live atmosphere,

Thinking I was doing, at your side, may be an invisible conversation was happening here,

Will you miss me, ‘coz I am a traveler, cursed to ever roam,

Would you mind showing the path, to my doomed heart, clearing your settling foam?

A tide comes within your compassionate being towards me,

I fly into the Trans, a very paranormal of me,

It feels like a sweet pain in my palm, a cold pain, a very cold,

What? I awake, I say, from the sudden,


Whisper comes, sings to me, you are the smith who melts,

The white ore, from the blue,

The moon is melting in you.


I wish I would have been the light of the mighty white,

To be always with you,

‘Coz you are living, giving, winning, charming, singing, flowing

And now melting,


Whisper comes, sings to me, you are the smith who melts,

The white ore, from the blue,

The moon is melting in you, the moon is melting in you.


R2 ZS.

1 comment:

  1. Nobody reading, nobody visiting, hence nobody commenting. what an irony, though this blog is alive. whoever writes can also have an opinion, and i love my rivering tone. if nobody reads its their own loss.

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