Poet's Shrine

A lake of skyline silver resting in a clearing.

The rim of the water glittered in callow beams of light.

Waters so peaceful, as if frozen in time,

An elixir to every malady - rumoured to be divine.

A wood of willow and oak - embracing the outskirts of the metallic mirror;

The topmost branches tainted golden by the fiery glow.

Arms of warmth wrap around the clearing.

A tranquil ambience blanketing the vaulted expanse above.

The aroma of a first monsoon downpour in the air;

A mist hanging low under the vast indigo yonder - 

A place of the poets’ prayers.

Compromised of calamity and battle-inflicted ground.

An evergreen oasis in a desert -

A sanctuary for the soul is found.

A place beyond words, beyond fact and fiction;

Free from the shackles of mortality - A utopian benediction.

So take me away,

Allow these winds of solace to pull me afar;

A place from which we have been derived;

Take me away to where the poets devised.