Painting Brush Of The Universe Poem by Soumili Karmakar

The moon was hiding behind the clouds
The night was cold, wrapped in the adulation of warm sweet breaths of delicate woods found near your tree house.

Friends they met in pages and leaflets,
A promise held in streaming teardrops and joyful wondrous waves in the midnight oceans;
Beautiful peacocks dancing on the slopes of meadows,
You thought of leaving home to find your glittering gold,
But when we met, I said " look into the mirror, or in my eyes, a reflection will rise and you'll find your gilded coast within two pairs of tides: diving united being wise".

The universe is saying, "I promise to guide your dreams, as you are my smiling sunshine nurturing my blooming garden,
Just live and believe in my times and you shall understand where all the magic lies, I say all in your beholding eyes".

Listening to leaves;
Love they hold, was heard in distant places
Restricting their hearts to withhold any prices,
since they were old, silence was sitting calm on a majestic chair,
Winds caressing your hair, and I saw your face above the whole fair.

A dazzling star walked near the snowy peaks, he showed paths and destinies to be intertwined
My fingers tangled, and I crossed mountain tops,
Birds, skies and rainbows all I saw.
I felt safe by flying through my vibrant wings,
The rainbow too glimed, then asked me about the paintings of stars.
In return I received hues of shimmering royal colours by showing your art.

One that waited near the silver ring, since years and years just to see your eyes blink.
She carried a diamond in her pocket,
She had a portrait of your's placed in her jade locket.

Storms of snowflakes and rains
A thread that kept us in a frame,
Wondered in flames, whether it's a lifetime or a sometime
Winds admiring your skin, as you were his sweet grapevine.
Each winter he took a sip from a modest glass,
As the snow fell on the lawn's misty grass,
I remembered the dewdrops waiting for the spring to last.
He drank you in hope of completing the book,
You were the title, you were the subject of all his journeys
You could have asked, " What's the mystery"!
He should have answered, " lanes of my home call for your footsteps, ask them how do they hear your thoughts when you walk pass by them in darkness".