ECHOES OF THE SOUL

...and he wakes
after whispers of reality have died down
his dreams enticingly calling back
but his tears could only become drops of paint
to paint his desires on the mirror of life
fresh and wet to drown his fears away
that his faith would be rainbow in a clear day
who would think floor of an ocean dusty?
unless you have been in heaven and hell

In his stupor's tirade
he gathered himself
at the bottom of the cliff with the golden precipice
searching for the temple of his soul
only to meet stones strangely curved to camourflage
with beautiful legendary engravings of emptiness
the sculptor having sighed into thin air
made him a dice of bane
he was cast away
as truth burnt him after deception was seen

He met
mermaids at the fountain of pleasures
the sweet nectar of lotus
in its lilt he was drunk
while his future was plunged into liquid hope
only to dry out and break into slivers
which reflected hell that burns unlike winter in heaven
he changed rhythm and met the dancers
the ballerina who caught his eyes
danced out of sight

Away from tribulations sleep invades
taking him where he belongs
a dusty diamond underneath a crusty shell
his tears makes the mirror of life shimmer
in uncommon mysterious wonder that is sensible
to reflect his hope to the another awaited day
for storms reign underneath a calm suffice
not a word that is mortal can see its eye
for all smiles, chuckles and gales of laughter
they are distant echoes of his suffered soul
for they were never dreams after all