The Falling Maples- Living Unconditionally- Poetry by S.S

"I wish to escape through poetry,  Can I attain so?" asked he, Glaring in his eyes, She saw the frozen expressions, His ever dwindling perceptions, fighting to melt the rigid ice, And she said, "Poetry is a beauteous tunnel, walk through and you shall see, how magnificent, magnificence can be, It's a sweet respite, from the ever tiring worldliness, and bears within, a new willingness, As you shall pen your heart and soul, Into the pristineness of Poetry, you shall accomplish spirituality, Poetry is the humble den of a poet's being, wherein the existence is unpretentious, with a modest heart and expressions truly ingenuous......." Hence, Escape 'in' Poetry, Not through poetry.......                                       ~S.S~

From the ashes of a murky past, A feathered charm rose, With wings magnificently vast What was her lore? Even the river of her tears, couldn't douse her blazing shore! She lives on, breathing unwillingly, as she bends in front of the fate, bathing in the flames, beaming, yet achingly I saw the feathered glory sob and blubber, only to be left aghast, as I realized, I was looking into the mirror...................                     ~S.S~

What lies underneath, the wrinkled sheets of time, is the reminiscence's wreath, that dangles like ever enduring chimes....                   ~S.S~

Midst the endless confusions, and a string of emotions, a whirl of the pieces of a befuddled heart, and drenched in feelings' turbulent commotion, Hopes are scarier than the demons ...........                       ~S.S~

I stay in a bubble of inviolability, For my aspiration fears being a victim, Of your apathetic and unambitious self, I pity your very existence, For what was once earnestness, Is now a slothful lump of uncompetitiveness, I wonder my own subsistence, Is it too much to hope for a laggard to turn desirous?                 ~S.S~

It was after myriad of verbal tempests, and a  harsh, slamming fate, Her respect was his ego's conquests, adorning her soul with the cape of hate, That his affection and adoration, or the efficacy of his devotion, Terrified her, The shudders of which were felt, In the deepest depths of her inner-self Leaving her wondering,  if her heart would ever melt........... ~S.S~

What lies underneath, our worldly whole, Is our conscience, our buried souls, A moment of introspection, a platonic surmise, Ripping through the third eye, our souls shall rise.........                            ~S.S~