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

Cicero :         "You must not seek me, For I am beyond curable, My limbs lost, my soul bruised, I cannot be your lover" Gaia :         "In a life that is crammed, with deathless battles, We are all disfigured, some within, carrying mutilated souls, some on the outside, with irretrievable flaws, Oh Cicero, what love do you speak of? e'en midst that chaotic existence, I adore your truthful presence, Must you know, when winds fall in love, the worldly appearance, becomes extraneous, and to whatever extent, To you the actuality may seem dismal, my love for you is abiding and immortal...." (c) S.S

Rising from the wild thickets, The fireflies gather like glistening trinkets, Dancing and whirling, rejoicing and carousing, I see all my abhorrence dousing, Midst the wavy dense grasses, Gentle sound of footsteps passes, I search and I chase, But he vanished, in the winter's haze, Mind fails to resume the Nature's appreciation, As the soul is occupied in intruder's inquisition, Are you the light, above and beneath? Or the fog, in frost's sheathe?                            ~S.S~

And beyond the edge of this persistence, far, farther than your mind can comprehend, is an entirely divergent orb, where plays euphonious chords, never heard before, a song, never sung, visions, never envisioned, roads, untraversed, upon those uncharted terrains, soaked in those never drizzled rains, are few cluttered rhymes, some unpenned verses, That sphere, which is beyond your realization, is my supreme destination..... (c) S.S

Ask me how your semblance reflects, against the rays of the morning Sun, It is the colour of honey, for my eyes, a hymn that my soul silently hums...... (c) S.S

Words bear certain glory, woven in eloquent strings, they speak of unspoken stories, Words carry a teeming endurance, sometimes pen wrath, at times love, they scream of prolonged forbearance, Words are bountiful, like an ocean, some rip them apart, some squander, as they drown deep in their own notions, Words make some of us whole, who knows, on the other hemisphere, sits a joyous, or a stricken soul? Words form the sole world of truth, carefree from unjustified defenses, where emotions flow as buoyant deluge, And so, I breathe words, air can wait........ (c) S.S

A tiny cabin, tucked midst the towering greens, upon a snow clad upland, and moonlight's gleam, A fireplace,  for that much sought warmth, and night's lull, as my spirit reforms, A paper and ink, as I my soul breaks, word by word, with every blink, A furious blizzard, to amuse me, as I weave it into verses, as winds kiss every tree, Oh what blessed, silence that would be, the night, the cold, the fire, the storm, a quiet world of my own....... (c) S.S

I have crossed over, that bridge before, where darkness abides, Off the mundane furor, but from those soothing hollows, words hauled me back, moments before, I was going to be swallowed, That chasm sends a calling again, and I try to resist, but the struggles are in vain, such is the mollifying ease of that haze, e'en the words sought me, to journey along through that maze, Oh that lull of the infinite black, shall guard me from all the worldly flak...... (c) S.S