Everyone wailed and rolled sympathies out their tongues at this existential crisis. Crushed to rose dust, the wilted kingdom let confounded Love descend from throne. Gliding over clouds, drifting against winds, they descended on a tortuous path. Deprecating such complicacy to the grass blades, they reclined against a crest. Lifting the lid slowly, fidgetingly like unfurling a hidden rare concoction in anticipation. Slipping into the delicately embroidered robes, they waited with praying lips, prying eyes. For Mirror of Existence to read the hidden, undeformed essence in reflections. Deft in the art, chameleon colors started to slither and then, bare. Their and the robe’s grip in a tussle with waves of energies colliding. Getting devoured and robbed off by conditions in helplessness; quite conducive stimuli. Desirous will at its core, robe nibbles to be the only skin. Love pulls out, pushing away, scraping off; on a bleeding trail. Bruised, battered, bellowing, they forsook sleep, flinging it back to the waxing moon. Sighs like flurries, swaying grass blades; disgruntled at the labels put all wrong. Shifting on feet to glance, yet again, a label reeking nothing different. Holding onto the fragile hope, they peeked into the opening crest hesitatingly. Reciting an unfamiliar telltale, the studded mirror whiffed an ominous smoke stealthily. Clung robes leading through restricted creepy lanes with its arms suffocating them. A gritty taste admixing with pungent whiffs lining layers in nasal cavity. Etching the canvas with familiar patterns, it claimed their skin, pulling towards itself. Discarded robe stalked, groped, stalked, groped in cycles surmounting, laced with words spearing. As Love fought, struggled, muffled into the vacuum to escape the obsession. Ineffectual drops of solace fading as Love stumbled, the powers did too. Painting their frame with colors from the crushed petals on a stolen palette. Opening each crest bestowed like a curse befallen, emanating from desires unmet. Trying on all the chameleon robes marked by territories of futile desperation. Love bombing, narcissist, the ones too shallow, countless others heaving on each lash. Fire lit, giving essence in bits and pieces to their puzzled frame, partly. Written off on a perpetual path, they stared into the hollow vastness. Open crest unveiling fabric with not a speck, distinguishing it from others. Slipping into a perfect mold like a well-tailored craft, drowning to rise. Pulling back their sheen, the jewels shone as Love ascended their throne. Shrouded in glories, the kingdom rose, showered with blossoms of its own; leaves puffing breath of fresh air. Penetrating with its light coated arrows into the blankets, layered variably clouding over others far and wide. Inscribing, Love monologues itself into words, each encasing its essence, all kinds.
Love.
Loving. In forms, not all. In molecules, not all. In patterns, swinging across seasons.
Learning. Unlearning. Relearning.
Since forever – Till forever
The Minuscule Pi Chambers 