Baobab tree

Long sigh , as i sit here,
beneath the baobab tree.
Straightening myself, as high as it lives.
within the drought and the scarce,

The greens and abundance,
there, it has always been.

As the echoes from my nerves diffuses, 

Withdstanding the storm and the fog,

snow and the scorching sun,

the tree stands robust,

Preparing to hand the fruits over.

Preparing for even the worser,

The tree stands taller.

Welcoming the hurricane,

scariest of all the deadliest,

That just casted off my chest.

And,

And, as my eyes rest,
soaking up hundreds of galoons,
the tree stands lifeless,
waiting to bloom. 
whitest of all the flowers,
giving a whiff of my essence
that just lauched.

Bygones..

Echoes of the bygones.
And, the walls that ceaselessly approach.
Distressed with a dry hope,
Still trying to squeeze some of those.
Sightless,
leading everything to black again.
Shrivelled everywhere,
In the shallows and the deep,
On the doors and the keys.

A limpid pool, a souvenir,
Disheartening but surreal.
Those spine-chilling strokes,
to and fro,
Crawling everywhere.
Anticipating, eyebrows drawn together.
Sometimes,
Sometimes they pretend to depart though,
they happen to assemble a hit.
Making the echoes go distant,
unleashing a heart that's frigid.
With a dance so vigorous,
astonishing,
to the rhythm of the ripples.

Apocalypse

Tight knot, tugged.
A bolus, large enough to gulp,
hard as a contracted flesh,
and a lump, that constantly grows.

Like a bite of an unseen bug,
Unavailing,
unscathed yet disturbing,
like a plastic ball, fallen off of a trash can,
That dances on each vibration of tread.
No dust in the air heavy enough to rethrow,
Lone, longing for a hard wind,
Expecting a soft blow.

Diagram of conspiracy hangs in the core,
Immersed in a wine full of console.
Fear diffuses, fogging up the four windows,
on and off, the red zeal flows.
And in no second, lits the eye,
As the first ray of early morn,
heart stirs around the dawn.

Yes, an apocalypse.
An apocalypse, unfolding the purity,
holding back the cold.
A lose knot troubling a hungry soul,
friable and soft, turning into gold.

Perplexed dream

Somewhere under the blue sky,
Under the silvery white lines,
searching for the setting sun thats shining far away,
where her heart belongs.
Fingers crossed, hoping she can see that image that the clouds make,
In vain, they are all distorted.

raddled, sore in the sole and a heart tht shrank
A rainy day it was and so was yesterday.
Perplexing, she recalled, it was same the day before as well.
When will they regain their shapes? she wondered.
A desire to see a fernlike cloud,
an elephant thats holding an egg
Or is it stepping upon it? She smiled.
Her lips cracked, may be the eggs cracked too.
Making the elephant in her thoughts, fall
Making the clouds she is hoping to see, distort

Mystical dark

A quiet dark that swallows my vigor, bringing melancholy all over my soul, still like an universe in the midnight, with thousands of stars twinkling around, I suppose i am one of them, chosen by this dark, with coats of its element glued on my skin, completely tangled and shattered all the day, magnetized, I end up levitating around, helpless similar to those stars, they might always dream of landing, as breaking the tail hurts. They may dream of being a moon, shining up all day and night. Calm and breezy enough to ignore the silence of this dark. The dark night has made the wind freeze. Like it freezes my soul, bewitching and captivating my whole. I want to run and hide behind the brightest part of the day, never to be seen by this dark. Longing to hear the chirps of the bird, feel the wind that dries my soaked soul, untie the knot of fears that my heart holds and, feel the sigh of relief letting the glue go, Throw it away, lightening my soul. Wishing, when it comes the other day, I could watch it and not be bewitched by its glow.