Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet


How  could I ever get bored even an infinitesimally insipid iota? 


When I had the perpetually golden rays of the blistering midday Sun; filter a path of


scintillatingly righteous courage; through every cranny of my disastrously impoverished demeanor.


 


How could I ever get bored even an inconspicuously non-existent trifle? 


When I had the gregariously cascading waterfalls of enlightening froth tickle me profusely from all sides; trigger in me an insatiably euphoric yearning; to


gallop ecstatically forward; through the fields of mesmerizing life.


 


How could I ever get bored even a comically minuscule whisker? 


When I had the voluptuously rustling breeze profoundly caress each of manipulatively besieged senses; uninhibitedly freeing me to dance timelessly; till the


boundaries of enchanting eternity.


 


How could I ever get bored even a diminutively frigid fraction? 


When I had the melodiously ebullient nightingale singing right on my shoulder; profusely infiltrating resplendent rays of hope; into my vindictively cold blooded existence.


 


How could I ever get bored even a capriciously tiny speck? 


When I had the divinely blooming flowers spinning a web of majestically astounding artistry all across my gruesomely bereaved senses; tirelessly drifting me towards an unfathomable ocean of blissful scent.


 


How could I ever get bored even a parsimoniously mercurial bit? 


When I had the unfathomable caravan of boisterously buzzing bees incessantly enshrouding my lifelessly stoical facial contours; inundate my mockingly dreary


survival with unprecedented enthrallment and tingling sweetness.


 


How could I ever get bored even a lackadaisically lackluster inch? 


When I had the fascinatingly ingratiating Moon shimmer gorgeously on my despondently disheveled flesh; seductively caress me with unsurpassable fireballs of


magnificently silken delight.


 


How could I ever get bored even a languidly inarticulate centimeter? 


When I had tantalizingly green meadows nestled with exotic dew drops to rampantly roll in; expunge each horrendously frustrated ingredient from my despairing blood; to handsomely blend with the stupendously reinvigorating soil.


 


How could I ever get bored even a ghoulishly asphyxiated bit? 


When I had intransigently aristocratic carpets of breath embracing my savagely extinguishing nostrils; irrefutably propelling me each instant to unflinchingly disseminate the patriotic river of truth; in every corner of this gigantic earth.


 


And how could I ever get bored even a trivially transient second? 


When I had your immortally unassailable love perennially romancing with my nervously fluttering heartbeats; when I had your marvelously humanitarian shadow; which had unconquerably become the sole reflection of my soul.



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The Sole Reflection Of My Soul

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