The Sweet Agony

   Rising from the divine sunlight

   zealous fire shall not subside.

   Burning in its fiery blaze

   they wield latent powers with pace.

   Situations are but perverse

   delegated to confer the sweet curse.

   It’s a mystical path of agony

   chosen over the bed of roses.

   Not a bit easy to tread

   but pain is an element coveted.

   Unseen, unheard, untouched

   befalls upon a virtual rain.

   In contravention to laws of reality

   it dampens the thirsty terrain.

   Can you hear me? Can you?

   No strangers but my alter ego.

   I once tasted the white hue

   Does the madness belong to you?

   Or you too licked the brush

   before painting the canvas lush?

   It’s neither me nor you

   just the hands of the Creative God.

   Made to paint, sing and write

   or engender anything anew.

   There are many miles to go

   and many criticisms yet to follow.

   With the gluttony of art

   rest everything else is hollow.

   Time to take risks has arrived.

   To burn in one’s own fire

   is the sweet destiny’s plan contrived

   But we shall resurrect from ashes

   for our sheer art shine in flashes.

   Yes you can hear me. You can

   Set your foot on destiny’s plan.