Silent Hangout

7/27/2019 Silent Hangout

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On the Horizon of the Milky Way,

There lies a grand communion

Not very far from here,

Not very near from here.

We are blessed to have,

The hide and seek of heat.

Not so blessed is our sun,

With its 9 beautiful wives.

Dearest to him is our Earth,

For she only bears the fruits of his pleasures.

But now, O my dear,

Both are crying, silent tears.

Hear the story of valour,

Hear the story of Love,

And the tail of the deciduous eyes,

With all your heart and ear.

O my precious!! O the denizen of my heart,

The sun palpitated to earth.

Give me the ointment of your vision,

Anointed it is only with your treason.

One side of yours,

Is hidden for laws.

And the other side,

By this misapprehension of fog.

The evanesce of your existence,


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Has turned mine into a forlorn one.

A Last Supper with you, O my darling,

Would suffice for a perennial commutation.

Give me a chance to clench you,

Making you disappear from the world,

For I seek an honour of being

The only one to behold you.

Hearing this, The Fog replied to Sun.

O my dear Sun,

Thank me for I am here,

For truth will be unbearable,

That She enjoys with all your spawns.

Oh red-blooded mighty one,

You can enjoy as long as I am there,

On my behalf only,

For You can imagine the things you want.

Who will understand the pain of Pluto?

Your cold has devastated her.

You would know the value of a curtain,

To the activities of your disloyal dear.

She [Earth] was my only cause,

But She makes You my sire.

For she knows she depends on you,

For her daily bread and beer.


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There is a blossom awaits for you,

Not made of soft leaves of flowers,

And not the one made of honey and gold,

The one that is made of ice,

For she [Pluto] has protected your love in there,

For ages my dear.

Realising the subtle conversation,

The earth gets cautious,

Hearing the words of truth,

She brings the curtain, heat of the sun.

Angry he was, repugnant he was,

Not on earth, but on himself,

Dissipated the curtain of the fog.

Into the trenches of the past.

My dear Lord, I am so fortunate to have your glance upon me.

Conceited the earth.

With the waves of her sea,

Alluring the mighty one.

You are the one, of my dreams,

And my heart, and my arms, connived the earth.

I waited so long to drink your nectar,

Moving her eyes, re-inked the earth.

Look, what I bring you,

The warmth of my blossom,

Let me soothe your burning eyes and heart.


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And forget the burns of the eternal past.

Once touched by the blossom of flowers,

For it is prepared by the lake of

Two skies my dear.

I also bring you ointment,

Of my own honey and gold,

To take the pleasure of being decorated,

By your own hands.

I have been all alone,

In the company of this vicious fog,

One night of separation,

Felt like ages my dear.

Touch me, Kiss me.

Take me to a world made of only pleasure.

I am yours, youre mine,

O my paramour.

The trail of the flowery words,

Hardly heard by the mighty burner,

For the arrows of the Fog,

Still remained pierced.

He wanted to cry,

But not in front of Earth,

As this would advocated,

Only his weakness in front of her.

Holding a storm and subduing a tornado,


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The fog was always a curtain,

And you blamed me for that, my dear,

He thought, he said to the earth.

I have been burning

Myself to keep you warm,

So that the delight of my tears,

May become the bear of your arms.

Youre not to blame,

But my own conceits,

For youre just the manifestation of

My own desires and deceits.

He again thought, he said to earth.

Seeing startled and speechless, the earth perspired.

Bringing the ripples in her voice, she conspired.

Knowing to him to be the source of all her pleasures,

The last arrow was fired.

To take the kite on the fullest height,

Give the thread and handle it lenient.

Fooled by the freedom of thread and love of air,

The kite will rise, the Earth knew very well.

For she was the one to bring,

The fire into water,

For she was to show the world how,

To hold the disturbances under the skin.

Throttled her cumulo-nimbus,


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She ordered to thunder and rain,

But only for her pleasure from angered sun,

Perceived by Him, the cry of the millennium.

Having seen it 450 times,

He was resolved.

He winked with one Eye,

To give earth a wave of Cold.

One eye was closed,

Towards the earth.

One eye was open,

Love for the earth was transferred to Pluto.

The distance was so much,

Decades and centuries to reach.

Comparison to millions of 450s,

It was a topping on an iceberg.

The earth perceived a success,

Of her charm,

Opening internal chambers of her blossoms,

She cashed on doing another harm.

Little did she know,

About the silence of a storm.

For she knew very well

Conjures happens once a year.

Showed her waters, mountains,

And the blossoms.


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Once again the bloody game of her seduction,

Was on unconsolidation.

Little did she know,

Music will be her own cries,

Tears will be her own oceans,

And mirror will be her own fog.

Furnace will be her own,

For no skin will be left,

Only if she charms again,

Before the love reaches the distant one.

Slowly and swiftly, yet steadily,

The arrows of illusion.

Penetrating the sun,

Whispering of him in unheard voices.

Confused maintainer of Solar System,

By the mere glance of the blue planet,

Drowned by his own conceits,

He spoke to earth.

Oh Queen of the three worlds,

Oh the Darling of My heart,

Do you spell the truth?

Or I am in a conceit once again.

As a bride waits for her war-gone husband,

My heart was longing for this all along.

But If I may ask,


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Do you offer water to my thirsty heart,

By mere a mirage?

It was very unusual for her,

For she had flown the kite, a 450th time,

For this time was so high,

Rendering the force very nimble.

What Earth perceived as the weight of the Kite,

Was only the weight of its own thread.

Kite was drown already,

In her own fake tears.

Once again she drawn the curtain,

This time but to cry some real ones.

The illusing arrows,

Was also about to fructify.

At some distant place,

The wink was about to reach.

One little wink, after eternity of time,

Sufficient to melt the ice of cold.

And the wink reached,

Dissolving the treasure of ages.

With all her strength and her life,

Pluto responded with the last drops of unfrozen blood.

In the mischievous web of time and distance,

Fructified the arrows of illusion,

Making the Sun and the Earth


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Dance with pleasure.

The Curtain of the Fog,

Was disguised in the form of veil,

On the back of the earth.

Witnessed the last gasp of the Pluto.

It committed suicide.

Causing the last rain of the year,

Drowned and drenched in that pain,

I wished to my friend, Happy, New Year.

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