Lady of Jade (2008)

It is not always a good thing- this solitude. This gnawing

singularity of thoughts and feelings. Many seek its fruits

But others bleed, ripped by its thorns. They look like

Self-imposed hermits on a trivial journey full of sound and fury.

The shadow is never aware of the scorching sun

That burns the body, scattering it into a million pieces.

Neither are those who stand miles away thinking and debating

Its worth, its nature and purpose. Little do they know of

The unbearable agony that feeds on hope every moment,

Like a leisurely Sunday morning snack. The mirage often

Melts into an oasis coaxing to breath, allowing hope to play

Its ancient game of dice. A heave here and a slump there;

Torn is the mind in this fall of a rise. And when the sweat soaks

The sand, running along the cheeks like a tear. Feels like drops

Of molten sun adding color to a depthless void. The brink is reached

And the throat is parched. The limbs numb chasing

An elusive beacon that has borne you hither. Things fall

Apart as eyes do not see the lake, glistening with bountiful mirth.

Just a gaping hole, parched and cracked. A voice is heard

And the cracks open wide, beckoning and whispering sweet names-

A promise

Of an yielding shade, a soft corner in a frozen lady of jade.