A phantasm or a figment of fertile imagination
floating in recollection, a vivid picture
vision from fairy tales at ungodly hour of three
when tired clock’s hand somnambulate
pendulum dozes off to enter Somnus’ realms,
moon is sleepy and stars yawn in lethargy,
pall of silence enshrouds sleeping Rhea.
I felt breeze’s vague whisper
and woke up to rub drooping eyelids,
annoyance lingering in frowning creases,
and then I woke up with a start
dumbfounded at specter afore my eyes.
She was an ethereal beauty afloat on
sublime cloud of fluorescence,
standing staring mutely,
while pearls rolled down on ground,
she spoke, her voice hoarse with pent up grief~
I felt a flute play saccharine notes
into noise-tormented ears.
smiling a brave ,half-fleeting smile
as ray seeping through grayish clouds,
I saw scarlet, raw wounds agape on her,
her eyes a pleading saga of endurance~
blood smearing blanche gown in russet.
‘I am truth, wounded by arrows of endless lies’
said she her tones soft, nectarine, calm.
‘once revered, cherished, coveted
now as world sinks in quagmire of deceit
my throat chokes with suffocating fumes of falsehoods,
as I struggle for a breath of honesty
but in vain I wheeze struggling to respire.’
‘the healing hands of hope nurture
me, as I wither as a singed flower
in blazing sunshine,
its ambrosia-kisses my antidote.
my patience is now emaciated
I visit every person with a honest twinkle
I plead to you to save me
with just a few words of truth daily
for my salvation…’