Wishlist to a thirty seconds memory!

When I was younger and even now, people told me, 'Wait till you see the real world'. I said I will. In images and sketches,my dream of the real life floated : designs of an exposed brick work house filled with framed pictures of my life, traveling toes, love, financial and personal success, a little studio and work that I love. It ran in my head that I'd earn all the cash I need to trot around the world and do all that I want to. To dote on designs by virtue of livelihood and live in writing as filled with heavy passion. To read all the beautiful books in the world, sometimes the bad ones- just to know the worth of the good ones, a cosy personal library.. Ah, dreams. Clouds dressed up as angels looming over our heads giving us hope and then filling us with the sweet sweat of the sky. So many things. Little little things.
   And I'm still dreaming of them all.
   It's fun to float in there.

~Hemu 

Unopen Wings

I saw this form in front of my eyes,
Majestic and elegant with wings flapping on her graceful back,
light reflecting like it hit a mirror shaped to the anatomy of a woman.
Warding anyone who came too close to her,
with only one fierce look with those black eyes that made them look away, only,
turning instantly gentle when they stood away.
She waded through waters and flew across the sky
grabbing the the warmth of light and the iced chillness of the wind,
throwing herself to the open pleasure of the world.
Until.
That one day when a man looked back into her eyes,
breaking free the glass over it, blasting shards into the endless valley's pits.
She looked, with different eyes at the man who gave it to her,
the fragile in her lived, still falling for the huge and muscular bird
who seemed to like his wings held within so that people may draw close.
And so, she pulled her wings to her back and around her breasts.
She waiting against the setting sun for him to draw near
and cuddle her to precious warmth of a genre different from what light gave her,
as an element in the air grabbed her by her wings
holding her over the edge of the cliff.
Flinging her down, to meet the violent seas underneath,
he looked over.
She was a bloody woman
who could have glided through it had she spread her wings.
Yet, she turned them close, to meet the jagged rocks that lay below.
Now,
Why would she do that?

Nirvana?

I saw her against the darkness of the space,
shining out as light, emanating radiance.
Her skin, fair as I can see, immaculate and smooth,
triggered off silver sparks as her petite hand brushed a speck of dust, off her shoulders...
Nude, in fullness of form and eternity,
she remained seated, her femininity aggressively delicate..
with the soft curves of her hide and the tender thought of her touch.
Her bare back I could see, like the path of a flowing river, smooth along its spine,
glossy, reflecting the light, and living, with a form so indescribable..
But there interrupted her massive wings accentuating her frame,
huge white wings, feathers showing off purity, embracing her back,
and elegance I envisaged, from the crouching figure so perfect.
Was that what defined her, a combination of beauty in form and strength at sight?
Her black mane flowed with the wind, every strand lustrous,
yet it's silky locks merging with the infinite blackness behind,
and creating intricate patterns when against her pale form.
She lay there, still, motionless, her hands hugging her knees,
her head down, looking like the acme of coziness,
of a package of all that is strength and power..
of femininity and grace.
Enchanted I stood, looking at the glowing form in front of me,
mesmerized, as the wings unfolded up into the air,
to reveal the majesticity she ruled..
..Throwing at me the visual weight and the lightness with which the ashen being floated.
I saw the alarmed countenance that she thrust into my mind,
a face of soft speech, its lines gentle as a breeze.
Nothing was more beautiful than what I saw, nothing much prettier,
Nothing more real and nothing more magical.
Her lips curled in a question, pink and lush,
that which appeared to speak only the truth..
She looked complete, her eyes hazel-brown,
Yet, there reigned a hint of sadness that I couldn't perceive.
Her eyes warmed down as she saw I wasn't a threat,
The hazed stare softening into a glance,
as the white weightlessness she held moved down in ease, calmly.
She looked at me and I saw something new,
It moved inside her eyes so beautiful and charming..
Until then,
I never knew angels also cried...