I never seem to miss the magic of the mystery,
Putting my heartbeat on a roller coaster ride,
I scream out loud, in a tone of silence and calm,
Eager for more of this thrill, wiled and charmed.
For all the lines I am writing in vague and oblique,
I look around for a bit of truth and authenticity,
Knowing very well that it will not occur ever,
It stays in my heart, with my soul, and is only mine.
Like the petals of the flowers in the plant fragrant,
I whiff the pleasant air with meditation and peace,
For that's the spell that your thoughts bequeath,
That's the passion that stirs life to me, my soul.
Like the story it is, this shall also be incomplete,
The lines begin and end abruptly, like these feels,
Like the chills of a wintry mountain evening,
Like the steamy cup of piping tea, both hot and cold!