koustavmukherjee

[koustavmukherjee]

The scintillating uncertainty coruscating in your eyes,

Seems like you found your latibule in someone’s lies,

like the beacon of ray eaten alive by the glaucous day,

Why your eyes scream autumn but your soul’s grey?

A part of you yearns quiddity of my touch and a part of you wants me to disappear in dust,

The redamancy got rid of its frisson rush,

Serendipity absconded in intoxicated love,

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[koustavmukherjee]

Selcouth beauty of hiraeth

My querencia is an obstinate redamancy for nature,

The petrichor never felt so enigmatic,

The apricity couldn’t impale the brumous chill of a winter dawn,

Then an epiphany emanated from within that what if its all breathing inside?

An inexorable palavering bias that is etiolating my peace.

A sciamachy that is laconic.

[koustavmukherjee]

The essence of the absolute is ephemeral but elysian. Afar but intertwined. It’s a growing seed embedded in our soul that destroys the lacuna. Closing my eyes and getting lost in the phosphenes, diving into the liminal space to self reflect the epiphany of my soul. I am close enough to the inconsolable longing of my heart to feel peace and here it transcends. In no time, it’s infused in oblivion again.

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