There are fools, and then there are stubborn fools
The waves that reach the peaks
And drown to the trenches
All in a heartbeat, and we are wave creatures
Bracketed by time capsules
Leaking dreams through our sweat glands
Searching for what the heart
Appreciates in time. Love. 

And she is hidden, a pearl inside
An oyster, a ribcage that straddles
A chamber that is notoriously
Star-struck, moon-shadowed, a creature of temperaments
A malignancy of a rhythmical wave
That misses both peak and depression.

And through the devilish grin
Of a stranger and a rendez-vous of fate
One pulls aside curtains and looks in
Through gaps inside her irises
And they say the keyhole of an eye
Conceals the vulnerable depths
That levies a little punt from the waging heart

So child, transfix your heart
Embalm your eyes, encroach your lips
Transfer your dreams, for there is nothing
Remotely as beautiful as a beginning
When Aurora catches you bedazzled
And pledges you a protracted dawn

And through the gunny sac of your heart
You weigh out your sandcastles
To open a drawbridge, for a lass to march through,
In search of your Camelot.

Author: meandererworld (Dilantha Gunawardana)

Poet of the unmechanical, unconstraint and unconditional, dreamer of near-perfection, lover of creativity, a man nearing the halfway mark of his life journey with mirth and sorrow, in that admixture of accidents and the muscle of anthropogenic fate, fighter of freedoms especially privacy, versatile sportsman, habitual humor artist, sporadic quotesman, man of science with curiosity as the fourth eye and perennial renaissance man who easily encounters boredom only to find something new to inspire.

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