wielding words in a kindle fire,
kept alive by hope, as wings took it only higher.
hammered on the anvil of trust, respect and desire,
feathery weapon of love grew mightier, yet stayed tender.
~ ~ ~
invisible sparks of pain pounced upon everything around,
caught and embraced by the timeworn carpet,
under which were waning memories, of time now and beyond,
fate made me but a puppet.
~ ~ ~
so huge the fire,
it threatened to ash away all that is dear,
my own death denied me coming anywhere near,
the wielded words, the feathery weapon of love, the anvil of trust and desire;
they all let me embrace destiny, with tears but without fear.
Tweet me at @sankarajayanth.