I Sung You Like A Verse

I sung you like a verse from a forgotten poem , 
Like a stroke of brush from a faded canvas , 
Like a touch of life in a weathered sculpture , 
Mentioned you like a sacred prayer ...

In the eyes that said a thousand words , 
In the smile that hid the secrets unknown , 
In the hands that held a crisp stone , 
In those seconds , 
I sung you like a verse from a forgotten poem .

I know you saw the sunlight on my face , 
I know you saw my closed eyes as I prayed in oblivion , 
I know you saw the tears that flooded my eyes , 
I saw you stealing me ...
I saw your eyes betraying you .
That's when I sung you like a verse from a forgotten poem .

Do you do these things usually ? 
Do you warm up a cold heart , 
Do you write and conjure words for yourself , 
Do you protect what you deem to be yours , 
Do you let others sing you ...like a verse from a forgotten poem ?

Like air , all pervasive , free , pure , 
I saw you heal me , 
I saw you covering me , 
I saw you holding my baggage while I flew amidst the clouds , 
I saw you letting me play while you watched , 
For all this , for all that , for all it felt ...

-Athena (Ambika) 

WRITERS SHARE MADNESS

 “How can I tell them I LIKE being high?
Being high on these euphoric bouts of stimulated thoughts
being high on arguments with a loved one…high on the words of wisdom and the stale fragrance of old pages …
And I feel dull when asked to conform to protocols… to norms … and to the rut of career and life… I feel robbed of my creativity. I feel robbed of who I am, or rather who I was”

Writers should never marry; writers should live alone, exist alone. It is absolutely insane to sit and talk to people who are not there. It is absolutely insane to sit alone and slave over words, try to articulate existence to an unseen audience. Only crazy, solitary people talk to people who are not there. And isn’t it fine to not destroy others with your madness?