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Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet

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Every Life Is Empty
by Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet → (All Poetry by Nikhil Parekh - Indian Poet)
Wednesday, March 16, 2016    Rated "G" by the Author.
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 Every night is empty without its resplendent festoon of shimmering stars; paving a path of mysticism through the dreary morbidity all around, 

 
Every desert is empty without its majestically glistening carpet of sands; royally rising and falling with the exuberantly blowing winds, 
 
Every road is empty without its flurry of boisterously gallivanting traffic; granting new dimensions all the time; to its never ending repertoire of enigmatic curves and turns, 
 
Every day is empty without its dynamically flamboyant Sun; bedazzling even the most remotely dilapidated corners of this Universe; with a garland of magnetically golden light, 
 
Every throat is empty without its harmonious melody; the captivatingly rhapsodic sound; that catapulted even the most impoverished; to an enchanting entrenchment beyond realms of mesmerizing eternity, 
 
Every mountain is empty without its irrefutably towering summits; kissing the clouds unflinchingly as they seductively drifted by; proving an ultimate exemplary to all other diminutive aspects of incarcerated life, 
 
Every mind is empty without its unrelenting fountain of enthralling fantasies; relentlessly exploring; discovering; and evolving into a waterfall of stupendous newness; as each instant unveiled, 
 
Every cloud is empty without its tantalizing droplets of rain; the unprecedented enthrallment that it spell bindingly bestowed upon this planet; with its profusely heavenly tumblers of water, 
 
Every palm is empty without its unfathomable myriad of tingling destiny lines; the magnanimous bifurcations which astoundingly governed; stardom and horrendous
pitfalls in a mans life, 
 
Every ocean is empty without its ecstatic fish; the voluptuously ravishing elixir that they imparted to the undulating waves; culminating into fireballs of desire before clashing against the scintillating rocks, 
 
Every calendar is empty without its meticulous array of dates; the most euphoric depictions of days and weeks; propelling living kind on the path of radiantly blooming prosperity, 
 
Every flower is empty without its fabulously gorgeous fragrance; the scent that handsomely pervaded even through the most heinous webs of uncouth lechery; 
flooding dwindling souls all across the Universe; with vibrant light, 
 
Every forest is empty without its untamed wilderness; the unsurpassable blend of leaf and animal and stream; which weaved cloud covers of unparalleled excitement, 
 
Every vein is empty without its scarlet rivulets of blood; the Omnipotent fuel to gush forward with insurmountable fervor in life; the only religion that bonded all human kind, 
 
Every oyster is empty without its marvelously shimmering pearls; the incredulously embellished globule which fulminated into vivacious happiness, 
 
Every canvas is empty without its vivid splashes of color; inundating the sullen atmosphere around with waves of poignant compassion; suddenly making drab
moments of life replete with astoundingly exotic charm, 
 
Every conscience is empty without its invincible righteousness; the sacrosanct virtue which made every organism feel as the richest alive; massacring the very essence of blatantly coward lies; from the colossal trajectory of this planet, 
 
Every heart is empty without its perpetual beats; the everlasting rhythm which bonded all across boundless earth; in thunderbolts of insatiable passion; alike, 
 
And every life is empty without its immortal love; the unconquerable soul mate of its dreams; which was its very reason to dream of an infinite more lives; more
importantly in this lifetime; be blissfully breathing and alive.

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