...

[ Attempt at breaking the writer's block. Couldn't come up with a title, hence the ellipsis, which ironically indicate a pause whereas I'm hopefully overcoming one - a pause of 3 months and this post is perhaps as cheesy as I could get (period). How difficult was it? Well, I wanted to end it with "Enough of this shit, I'm no John Keats." But oh, this compulsion to write! I somehow made it to the end! ]



My heart must be a forest,
I say so because of relentless rhythmic sounds :

the savage roars and brutal chases -
futile, mostly.

The wimper of the vanishing,
the silence of the dead.

The wildfires blazing,
grazing all within its bend
and the struggling life, continuing,
despite.

The soft showers falling,
washing away the old
the joy of new creation,
that the forest unfolds.

The bubbling quicksand,
the hissing of snares,
the nightfall with its sinister glares.

The new dewy dawn,
dispersion of the dark
with the chirping and the abundance of songs, 
another day embarks.

And that less frequented core,
the little heart of hearts -
the deep forest of booming silence and light,
and a few wincing scars.

The forest flourishes
with every orchestrated beat,
indifferent
to the fate it meets.