A spark at the tip, red crimson shades
It starts burning, like the onset of a pyre.
Coy to begin the voyage of ecstasy.
This mist and the shades of white and gray
Spiraling through my soul like a white witch.
It casts spells and woos me to its world
Like a slave I leave, bidding byes to my kit and kin.
As time elapses, it takes me to its euphoria
Where I sense, I touch, I exalt in pain.
And I float in my lustrous delirium.
As the red burns reach the last point
All that remains is the grey residue
Reminiscence of endearment.
And in contemplation, comes clarity
Shades of agony that the red burnt
and the white mist concealed
It was a lapse of time, an escapade
But it has left an ache, sharp and piercing.
An intoxicating sting in the heart
And it Provokes one to light another
To feel the red burns again,
to escape in those white fumes again.
I'm a literature student. I live in a countryside close to nature. I love the romantics more than the classicists. And I believe literature helps me to escape from my harsh realities, just like Frost's 'Birches'.