Waking Life

Free as a bird,

She glides smoothly 

Across her Universe-

With her soul light,

Her inner goddess 

Prances about with joy.

Her dark eyes brooding-

A clash against the porcelain white,

The orbs moist,

Yet ringed with wonder.

She feels her own evolution-

Her own transient metamorphosis,

Into a numb being devoid of  reactions.

Her eyes, blank and omniscient-

Stare at the savagery of the times,

Or find mirth in life's rhymes.

She absorbs but forgets to reflect.

Yet in her mind,

She feels free today-

As she no longer is chained by 

The weight of his presence-

That only served to undermine and gnaw

At her own spirited person.

Long ago she had left,

All dreams of a walk into the future,

With hands held and eyes locked.

In her world today,

These were but paltry visions-

Defying reality.

Jarred by the blackness of his persona,

She thanks God for the reawakening,

That came sooner than later,

For a healing to occur.

He had been a parasite merely-

Only lived to kill her beauty within.

She feels light,

A spring in her steps.

Her gait is purposeful-

As her pace takes her away from him,

Delve deeper into her own space,

To find her own self- intact.

She feels right,

The end is blurred doubtless,

Yet the means to it are clearer today.

She feels no love,

Walled be her presence,

Yet in its limits, reside her serenity.

Her way to hope, 

She chooses to recreate.

Placing her faith in none,

She learns to unlearn.

Leaning on none,

She decides to follow her heart still-

As it remains tightly clutched-

And not left astray on someone else's sleeve.

Her eyes have changed expressions too,

The jaggery seems jagged now-

Edges carved out with grit.

In caution lies her key,

In pristine sanguinity,

She roots her many dreams.

She still walks on her path of eggshells,

The cracks a cause for a jab back to earth.

Solitary she prefers her solitude,

Peace of mind at the cost of her own pieces.

She keeps happy smiley faces at bay,

Around her like happy balloons-

To lift her up and soar high-

While all along she remains

A silent trespasser

Of her own waking life.