Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet
144,408 poems read
The most cataclysmically decimating atmosphere might be perpetually silent; with the only palpable sounds around being those of celestially sleeping organisms; outside,
Yet Inside; uncontrollably vicious maelstroms of frenetic desperation arose in my soul; without your beautifully symbiotic voice; O! Eternal beloved.
The most thunderously roaring of sky might be unbelievably calm; with not even the most mercurial speck of thunder and tempestuous lightening flashing around; outside,
Yet Inside; every ingredient of my blood hedonistically died a death more ghastlier than veritable death; without your impeccably bestowing eyes; O! Priceless Beloved.
The most uninhibitedly adventurous sea might be imperturbably snoozing; with not even the tiniest wave bobbing upon its fathomlessly undulating periphery; outside,
Yet Inside; every bone of my impoverished body; was slowly and slowly deteriorating into infinitesimally vituperative nothingness; without your majestically blessing palms; O! Heavenly Beloved.
The most miraculously radiating of stars might be blissfully resting; with not even the most ethereal of twinkle mischievously emanating from their tranquilly altruistic countenance; outside,
Yet Inside; devastating fires of hell were cold-bloodedly charring the fabric of my holistic existence; without your stupendously enamoring and vividly tantalizing lips; O! Omnipotent Beloved.
The most melodiously captivating nightingales might be nimbly humming themselves and their kin into invincible siesta; with the tapestry of the handsomely starless evening gradually setting in; outside,
Yet Inside; apocalypses of hapless retribution were fulminating intransigently in every pore of my conscience; without your philanthropically endowing fragrance; O! Bountiful Beloved.
The most ferociously penalizing fireball of Sun might have abjured for the day; bidding a regally transient adieu to the firmament of the exhilaratingly enchanting cosmos; till the rising of the next dawn; outside,
Yet Inside; relentlessly truculent whiplashes of inexplicably bizarre agony pierced every quarter of my truncated demeanor; without your spellbindingly mystical
dance; O! Unassailable Beloved.
The most brilliantly unprecedented epitomes of the mountains might have humbly surrendered to the mist of the seductively emollient clouds; peacefully fantasizing and drifting into the realms of insuperably glorious paradise; outside,
Yet Inside; brutally barbarous cleavers sadistically knifed through even the most evanescent trace of my happiness; without your everlastingly effulgent aura; O! Timeless Beloved.
The most piquantly stinging stalks of chili might have succumbed to the gorgeously serenading raindrops; losing even the most minuscule iota of poignant consciousness to the sensuously ravishing droplets of mother nature; outside,
Yet Inside; the thorns of unfathomably unceasing depression snapped the fangs of my torturous existence more vociferously every unfurling instant; without your symbiotically benign essence; O! Mellifluous Beloved.
And the most hedonistically marauding of Dinosaurs might be synergistically snoring; with even the most robustly titillating of ambrosia failing to make the slightest of indentation on their reverie; outside,
Yet Inside; the corpses of cadaverously venomous meaninglessness stabbed me beyond the threshold of ultimate despair and loneliness; without your immortally blessing love; O! Omnipresent Beloved.