The downpour of light fills the air

steady drips across the stone faced pillar.

The Light shines forth in the darkness.

The initial burst of its rays are beyond comprehension

the blinding light veils its true beauty

and masks under a shade of gray.

Shadowed only by the fragments of the stars.

Hides in the twilight of the moon

tattooed on its moonshine.

Scattered in the molecules of the universe.

Bit by bit, star by star, the colors of tomorrow.

Forms a shape of its own to those who believe

wonders whether its true or not

like the shades of chameleon.

Dreads the day it reveals its diffused elegies.

Celebrates in the wake of a new dawn.

It works in the dreams of tomorrow and the verity of yesterday.

The Light chooses no sides

its beauty is beyond comprehension.

Taking its own shape under the stars of the universe.

Time flies by like an eternal sleep

Words try so hard to make time weep.

Forever sliding through its veiny fingers

Like a dream amidst reality.

Trying so hard to paint a picture

With reflections from a mirror.

Always wanting and waiting

To find the self in the other.

Mannequins and statues make more sense

Because they do what their supposed to do.

Saying, “I don’t know what the future holds.”

Open the window and make love to the world

Be careful you might just catch a cold.

What time is it?

I often ask myself.

I tried smashing the hands

and destroying its face

to freeze it in a moment.

It eludes me,

it continues to flow like a river of sand.

I tried controlling you,

by changing your features.

By reversing your hands.

But you forever slip through my fragile grip.

I tried hiding from your face.

Under the covers of my dreams.

Yet you continually appear to me like an oasis,

disappearing and re-appearing to quench my thirst.

I leave my house to avoid you

but you show yourself again.

The children playing in the streets,

the man with the graying hairs in the office,

the flower that dies in the August rain.

I’ll just close my eyes forever

to live in a dream,

to hide from your hideous yet wonderful face.

But then again..

I could’ve missed out on the beauty

that You’ve seen.

The sound of glory resonates within

his inner being.

He basks in the moonshine of adulation.

A victory won

a medal granted.

Decorated upon a glass statue of himself

in the house of solitude.

The music fades.

Adulation turns into the symphony

of despair.

With each triumph a piece of himself shatters

into the twilight.

His peers hate him,

his family scourns him.

He repeatedly listens to the music of his glory.

Nothing else seems to exist.

The beat of the drums drives away the silence.

He wakes up weak and deprived.

The glass statue stares blankly.

Each day he loses strength and vigor.

Listening to the music of his glory.

He wakes up upon himself looking at a child,

with its peanut-brittle body.

Reaching out with its little hands.

The penumbra of light releases the darkness.

The old man gets up from his ethereal dream.

Moving his frail body,

drudging the piercing grass of death.

With a muster of strength,

he raises his sword and fells upon

the glass statue of medals.

It breaks, his glass face shatters.

He hears his voice upon a thousand faces

upon the thrashing of crystalline,

marching in cadence into the night of day.