Whenever I have a surge of emotions

When I feel the rush of tears into my eyes

A tsunami of sensations gushing over me

I struggle to process its presence,

An unexpected guest at noon

Then I take refuge in my room and grab my weapons,

I turn to a fresh canvas and paint my words

I write until my soul is pleased, 

Till rivulets of my thoughts run down in strings 

I weave such precious strings of words

Oh, only if the world could see them all

My poems have no rhythm,

No honey like rhymes to sing by

But my Amma says they do, but I can’t see it

From my blurred vison as I keep spinning,

Upon the pedestal She proudly placed me

Then I soar up to reach for my dreams

Like a toddler reaching for a floating bubble

A bubble that floats away,

At the glimpse of my fingertips 

My bubble of a dream

So beautiful as it flies

A liquid pearl alluring me

For which I reach blindly,

Only for it to cease abruptly 

Forming fine crystals of nothingness

Nothingness which I engrave onto my canvas 

For it to be viewed by the eyes of the closest.

Submitted by Anonymous